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Planeswalkers. Sign-Ups (a Magic the Gathering RPG)

Welcome to the Multiverse, home to all the planes and world in existence. Within the Multiverse exist a nearly-infinite number of planes...or perhaps they're infinite? No one really knows, a well-respected scholar once theorized that there are a finite number of planes, but there are more than can be counted in the combined lifetimes of every being in existence. We may never truly know which it is.

The planes of the Multiverse are separated from each other by the space known as Blind Eternities which is filled with chaotic energies, including Ćther and mana. The inhabitants of most of these planes have no idea that theirs is not the only universe, or indeed the only world. Powerful beings, known as Planeswalkers, are the only ones who know of the different planes and are able to travel intentionally between them.

You are a Planeswalker, an traveler and explorer of different worlds from any of the myriad planes of the Multiverse. Perhaps you are a vampire from the dark world of Innistrad; or you're a merfolk from Dominaria; maybe you're a human from Kamigawa; or you might be a minotaur from an as-yet unknown and unexplored plane. Regardless of where you originated, your story has already begun...now all that's left is to see where it takes you.

Now...

Something has begun to stir, moving throughout the Multiverse, manipulating events on a cosmic scale. Beings of great power and influence are assembling weapons, artifacts, and armies. Ancient forces are rising across dozens of planes. Even more disturbingly, Planeswalkers have gone missing. Disappearing from planes they frequent, leaving no discernible clue as to where they've gone, vanishing without a trace or message of warning. And there is a pull, a feeling, passing through the remaining Planeswalkers. The magic is gathering.

It began on the plane of Kamigawa, where the balance and fragile peace between the plane's material and spirit worlds is kept by the Sisters of Flesh and Spirit. A simultaneous assault on both planes left the Sisters distracted, and a mysterious pair attacked them, stealing a piece of divinity from them. On Ravnica, a worldwide city-scape of a plane, the several of the ten Guilds were approached by various strange offers from even stranger beings. The Planeswalkers waging war on the corrupted plane of Mirrodin (now known as New Phyrexia) with the Mirran Resistance report a change in the movement of their mechanical Phyrexian enemies: it seems as if they're building something. Across the Multiverse, machinations are coming together, a mysterious force is emerging, and a plot is beginning to take shape.

Intrigued by this strange turn of events and hoping to uncover more of the mystery, you planeswalk to the Nexus of the Multiverse, the plane known as Dominaria, where you find a strange gathering of several other Planeswalkers, all drawn by the same sense of urgency and happenings across the various planes. Gathered together and made aware of the scope, it has become strikingly clear that there is something at work: an event of Multiversal scope is coming together, and how it unfolds could have disastrous consequences.

=====Information=====

Planeswalkers:
Planeswalkers are among the most powerful beings in the Multiverse, and can be born at random in any sentient race, with no outward signs of their latent power. However, there is a one in a million chance that any given sentient, natural being will be born with a Planeswalker's spark. When that being is put through a period of extreme stress—in many cases death—the spark can trigger, causing the individual to ascend and become a Planeswalker.

The defining trait of Planeswalkers is the ability to travel between separate universes with ease, while the vast majority of people throughout the Multiverse are not even aware that other worlds beside their own exist.

In the past, the Planeswalkers of old were nearly-omnipotent, immortal beings, but a cataclysmic shift in the Multiverse changed the nature of the Planeswalker spark. The new breed of Planeswalkers no longer display the near-omnipotence of their predecessors (and surviving old Planeswalkers do not possess the abilities they once had). While they are usually powerful mages, they are still physical beings that in general age normally, can be harmed, and need the same sustenance as other mortals. This is in stark contrast to the earlier Planeswalkers. Some of them have managed to suppress or avoid some of these limitation by magical means; however, these are specific to each Planeswalker.

Planes:
A plane is a self-contained world or universe of any size found within the Multiverse. While planes can be governed by any conceivable set of rules and natural laws, or even indeed inconceivable ones, most planes visited in the storyline are comfortably similar to Earth.

Natural planes are naturally occurring worlds that just came into existence at some point. Most known planes just have one central, populated world, and the entire plane is typically named after it. However, it is possible that in vast universes with billions galaxies and stars, other populated worlds also exist.

There are also artificial planes, worlds created usually by the Planeswalkers of old through sheer will. The creator of such a world defines all of its rules. These planes however, are unstable and eventually collapse if there is nothing that would sustain their existence (like constant flow of mana, or technical means). It has been theorized that several new-breed Planeswalkers might be able to create an artificial plane by combining their powers.

Several Known Planes: Spoiler:- Alara:

Alara was a world rich in mana, a world in balance...until the Sundering. In a cataclysm of unimaginable proportions, Alara was rent asunder into five separate worlds, each a refraction of the others. The cause of the cataclysm was lost to time. Some ancient lore of the Shards suggest a being of godlike power forcibly split Alara to seize its mana for himself. Some believe it was caused by the titanic battle for the fate of Alara, waged by the archangel Asha and the demon Malfegor. But for most, only the dimmest cultural memories remain of a richer world that existed before their own.

Whatever the cause of the splitting, one thing is clear: The Shards have become very different places in the time since the Sundering. Each plane was all but severed from two of the five colors of mana. The Shard of Bant, for example, lost almost all its black and red mana, maintaining only white, blue, and green.

This mana imbalance caused the Shards to evolve in wildly distinct directions over the course of thousands of years. Now only hints of a common ancestor plane remain on the five worlds, and their environments and denizens could hardly differ more. However the event known as the Conflux has recently reunited the shards, causing much chaos and mayhem to their respective residents.

Naya. Life, passion, community, and the wild—these are what flourish without the influence of black or blue mana. In this lush land, life is celebrated. Instinct triumphs over machination. Here titanic predators are shown respect, while humans, elves, and catfolk called leonin seek to revere and respect nature.

Bant. Without the destructive or selfish impulses of red and black mana, Bant has become a golden utopia. Angels rule the realm with benevolence and grace. Humans and the birdfolk called aven resolve their conflicts with ritualized combat. Duty and honor are the bedrock of this kingdom of light.

Esper. In this world of wind and wave, control is the guiding force. Cut off from the chaos of red and green mana, Esper has become a magocracy. Enigmatic sphinxes counsel powerful wizards and seers. Everything here is observed and controlled. The forces of high magic rule supreme.

Grixis. What becomes of a world without new life? The dark wasteland of Grixis answers the question. Its denizens desperately cling to its remaining lifeforce. Without the communal forces of white and green to bring life and compassion, it's every ghoul, demon, and necromancer for themselves.

Jund. In the absence of white or blue mana, Jund has devolved into a roiling, primordial cesspit. Dragons top the food chain, at home in Jund's countless volcanoes. While dragons stalk the skies, humans, goblins, and the lizardfolk called viashino lie low in Jund's tar-spotted, vine-choked canyons.

However the event known as the Conflux has recently reunited the shards, causing much chaos and mayhem to their respective residents.

Spoiler:- Dominaria:

Planeswalkers of old had a name for the Multiverse itself: Dominia. The plane at the center of the Multiverse, the so-called "Song of Dominia," is the sprawling plane of Dominaria. Dominaria is so vast and its history so rich that even its own veteran storytellers and historians hardly know where to begin.

Dominaria houses scores of famous locations, from the volcanic continent of Shiv, to the time-shattered isle of Tolaria, to the dark, wretched island of Urborg. The continent of Aerona contains a rich variety of terrains, from the cold mountains of Keld to the wide plains of the enduring kingdom of Benalia. To the south, the huge continent of Jamuraa features jungles, deserts, and everything in between. Dominaria is also dotted with many hundreds of smaller islands, including the Spice Isles, the Burning Isles, and countless others.

This plane is the birthplace of the brothers Urza and Mishra, master artificers who discovered ancient stones of power in the Caves of Koilos. Each desired the other's stone, and in their lust for power the brothers waged a savage war against each other that devastated Dominaria and plunged the plane into an ice age.

The end of the Brothers' War led to Urza's discovery of the dark plane of Phyrexia, a hell of flesh, metal, and grease where the lines between the living and the artificial were blurred to nothingness. Phyrexia had corrupted Urza's brother Mishra as part of its plan to conquer Dominaria, and Urza began a millennia-long plan to thwart Phyrexia and its lord and master, Yawgmoth.

Dominaria is also the origin of the skyship Weatherlight and its crew. The famous flying vessel contained ancient magical technology from the long-dead Thran Empire—technology that enabled the ship and its crew to planeswalk. The Weatherlight, its crew of heroes, and a collection of artifacts called the Legacy were all instrumental in thwarting the invasion of Dominaria by the hellish plane of Phyrexia.

One continent of Dominaria, Otaria, was relatively intact after the ravages of the Phyrexian Invasion. It was here that the barbarian-mage Kamahl sought glory in the pit fights of the notorious Cabal. Instead he found a much greater conflict—one fueled by an orb that could amplify magic and the desires of its wielder: the Mirari.

Because of its place at the core of the Multiverse, Dominaria was also the epicenter of the temporal-planar fractures that threatened the Multiverse itself. A host of cataclysms, many caused by planeswalkers themselves, had left Dominaria desolated and had destabilized the fabric of the Multiverse itself. The damage to time and space spread outward from Dominaria to affect other planes, and only the intervention of a handful of powerful planeswalkers mended the rifts in Dominaria and restabilized the Multiverse itself.

Spoiler:- Innistrad:

Horrifying creatures have always existed on Innistrad. The humans of this world have always relied on their faith to shield them from vampires and werewolves, spirits and ghouls. But of late, the holy wards and runes have begun to fail. The protection of travelers' shrines and rustic prayers grows weak. The spells of vampire slayers and wolf hunters are no longer proof against the creatures that prowl the shadows. The Lunarch, head of the revered church of Avacyn, knows what the village priests whisper: that the archangel Avacyn has abandoned Innistrad.

Few know why prayers to Avacyn have gone unanswered, but the consequence is clear to all—the old ways no longer carry the power they once had. In her unexplained absence, the power of Avacyn's influence fades, and the power of Innistrad's fiendish ilk grows. The aristocratic vampire families hunt peasant blood for sport and sustenance. Packs of snarling werewolves ravage caravans and villages. Geists float from their tombs and haunt cobblestone alleyways and ancient manors. The unhallowed dead feed their relentless hunger, roused by forbidden magic or stitched together by the inventions of brainsick alchemists. No longer held back by Avacynian magic, the supernatural horrors of the world are now free to prey on humanity.

Because of the renewed danger, traditions have begun to change across the four provinces of the known world. Stensian shopkeepers close their doors at nightfall. Travelers avoid the grave-riddled lowlands of Nephalia and the mist-laden woods of Kessig. Parish priests, wolf hunters, and the holy warriors known as cathars carry silver with them at all times. Even in the province of Gavony, seat of the Church, the shadows crawl with cults and conspirators.

Still, there are those who strike back against the forces of night. Armed with knowledge of their foes' vulnerabilities and the residual strength of their faith, fiend hunters venture into the haunted places of the world. Priests and specialized slayers train to face unholy fiends and protect parishes across the countryside. Humanity has lost its guardian angel, but there may yet be hope for those facing the horrors of Innistrad.

Spoiler:- Kamigawa:

On Kamigawa, denizens of the plane waged a brutal war against their own gods.

This plane, reminiscent of sengoku-era Japan, contains two symbiotic worlds. One is the utsushiyo, the material realm of mortals, and the other is the kakuriyo, the realm of the kami. For many hundreds of years, Kamigawa's denizens peacefully worshiped the spirits inherent in everything--spirits of sacred places, objects, and ideas.

Each of these kami was a divinity, and the way to happiness was to honor the kami and live by their ways. The inhabitants of Kamigawa were content with this life of devotion. Then the unimaginable happened: their gods turned on them.

Slowly at first, kami began to take form in the material world. Some scholars believed the kami were delivering a message or a warning. But their appearance was so alien, so surreal, that no meaning could be discerned.

At that time, the plane's most powerful warlord, the daimyo Takeshi Konda, ruled over the Towabara Plains from his stronghold at Eiganjo. But even as his armies and samurai secured more territory in Konda's name, the kami manifested in ever-greater numbers.

Then came a night that changed Kamigawa forever. A few miles from Eiganjo Castle, the kami set upon the town of Reito. Scores of spirit-world monstrosities swept through the town, killing nearly every living thing. Hundreds were slain; few survived. The Kami War had begun.

Over the next twenty years, spirits of every shape and size would descend on the plains, ravage everything in their path, then inexplicably stop just short of Eiganjo. Throughout this spirit-world siege, Konda remained within his stronghold, mysteriously safe from harm.

Kamigawa's people were left to wonder why the kami betrayed them even as they fought for survival. What had they done wrong? How could they discover why the kami were so angry? And what happens when a world must kill its own gods to survive?

In truth, it was the proud daimyo Konda who began the war. With aid from moonfolk allies, Konda kidnapped a kami to secure his own power and immortality. This outraged the great O-Kagachi, the kami of all things. Its ire began a struggle that would take countless lives.

It was the self-serving machinations of the ochimusha named Toshiro Umezawa, ironically, that set the stage for the end of the Kami War. Only the intervention of Konda's daughter Michiko as well as the stolen kami itself, an entity that came to call herself Kyodai, could placate the kami and restore a fragile peace to the land of Kamigawa.

Spoiler:- Lorwyn/Shadowmoor:

Lorwyn
Lorwyn is an idyllic, storybook world where races of fable thrive in perpetual midsummer. The plane is covered with dense forests, meandering rivers, and gently rolling meadows. The sun never quite dips below the horizon, and winter is entirely unnown.

That's not to say Lorwyn is without conflict. Its races have their struggles and skirmishes, some isolated, some long-standing. Lorwyn is one of the few planes without humans, but many other races fill in the gap. In the outlying town of Burrenton, for example, the short-statured kithkin face the encroachment of a nearby flamekin settlement. The flamekin are the race perhaps least at home in sunny Lorwyn. Their natural fires are a threat to others who are suspicious of their impulsive natures and hot tempers.

Far away in the Porringer Valley, gangs of boggarts sneak in amid groves of treefolk to make trouble and steal "souvenirs" of their trespasses. The boggarts are greedy for sensation, always seeking out new tastes, smells, and experiences. Each boggart warren visits others for their "footbottom feasts," a chance to share the experiences accumulated by other warrens.

As these squabbles continue, the merrows, the merfolk of Lorwyn's rivers, act as diplomats, couriers, and merchants for the other races. They use underground channels and wells as conduits for communication, and because the merrows are intelligent and kind, they usually end up getting the better end of the deal.

If the merrows are Lorwyn's merchants, the giants are its arbiters and advisors. The iconoclastic, territorial giants wander Lorwyn according to their own whims, only occasionally stopping to address the concerns or complaints of the little folk. The rest of the time they sleep or bicker among themselves.

Of all Lorwyn's denizens, though, the elves are both most favored and most feared. In a world of unspoiled nature and lush forest, the elves believe themselves to be the paragons of natural beauty. Signs of elvish supremacy are widespread in this world, from their gilded forest palaces to their mercilessness toward the other, "lesser" races. Despite the elves' domination, Lorwyn's people thrive through community and tradition, and perhaps with some help from an unseen power.

Faeries are ubiquitous in Lorwyn, like bees gathering pollen. Although the capricious and mischievous creatures seem to behave unpredictably, all are guided by the will of Oona, the queen of the fae. Oona's magic is said to keep Lorwyn in its midsummer state, but few have ever seen her. Her throne, Glen Elendra, is a half-mythical place that few but the fae have ever seen.

Lorwyn is ancient and verdant, and its natural processes are locked in familiar cycles. For instance, every year for countless decades, the kithkin town of Kinsbaile has hosted the Festival of Tales, a gathering to tell stories and make merry before the Aurora, an annually occurring display of lights in the sunset sky. But some auroras are greater than others. On a long cycle that only the faerie queen Oona comprehends, an aurora can bring about a total transformation of the plane of Lorwyn. Afterward, what remains is the plane of Shadowmoor, a realm of eternal dusk.

Shadowmoor
Shadowmoor is a plane of perpetual dusk where the sun never rises, and where strange light seems to come from unseen sources. This plane is Lorwyn's opposite. Lorwyn is an idyllic midsummer, but Shadowmoor is trapped in a state of crepuscular gloom. Lorwyn's races skirmish over territory and property, but Shadowmoor's races are locked in a perpetual, life-and-death struggle for survival.

Like Lorwyn, Shadowmoor is devoid of humans. Lorwyn's many other races, however, persist in Shadowmoor...but like the plane itself, they too are transformed into darker versions of themselves.

The kithkin, once communal and cooperative, are isolated and xenophobic in Shadowmoor. They live within walled towns, shunning outsiders and attacking those who get too close. The once silver-tongued merrows are assassins and saboteurs in Shadowmoor. They use the waterways to move quickly from victim to victim, always ready to drown and loot land-dwellers. Likewise the boggarts, once mischievous and hedonistic, are in Shadowmoor vicious and warlike. Their interests have turned from curiosity to pillage, and from stealing pies to stealing babies.

The larger denizens of the world, the giants and treefolk, find themselves changed as well. The treefolk of Shadowmoor are blackened, blighted, murderous creatures. And when awakened from the long hibernations, the giants are terrible, wrathful beings that carry huge pieces of the land itself on their bodies.

The transformation of the flamekin is perhaps the most dramatic—and tragic. Once their fires burned bright, but now they are extinguished, reduced to skeletal, smoking husks called the cinders. In Lorwyn they sought emotional transcendence, but in Shadowmoor they seek only to satisfy their malevolence and need for revenge.

The imperious and vain elves of Lorwyn find themselves humbled but heroic in Shadowmoor. Whereas Lorwyn's elves sought to judge and subjugate others, Shadowmoor's elves are the world's last hope—seekers and protectors of beauty and light in a dark, ugly place.

Only one race and one place remain unchanged when the Great Aurora turns Lorwyn into Shadowmoor: the faeries and their home of Glen Elendra. The fae are the fulcrum of this transforming plane, for it was their queen, Oona, who created the Aurora.

There was a time when Lorwyn had annual seasons and was "in balance." It was Oona who sought more influence and control over the world. From her secret glen, she wove countless powerful spells into a web of magic that would grant her more power over Lorwyn. But as Oona's enchantments on the plane grew more complex, the world was thrown out of balance. The very nature of the plane's denizens, objects, and places began to split; they developed "Jekyll and Hyde" existences.

Rather than risk losing her control of Lorwyn, Oona created ever more powerful glamers to stabilize the plane. Eventually she accomplished her goal. Lorwyn's fluctuating states fell into a regular interval of long, bright, warm summers, and long, dim, creepy autumns. The costs to the plane were substantial, however. First, each interval lasted for almost three centuries. Second, on each change from the Lorwyn to Shadowmoor state, the plane's denizens lost all awareness of their previous existence.

Spoiler:- Mirrodin (now New Phyrexia):

Mirrodin is a plane made entirely of metal. Here, thorny copper trees create artificial forests, great structures of iron and rust form mountains, and the blades of grass on the plains are literally blades. Five shining suns cast their light on the shining world below them, one for each color of mana. Humans, elves, and goblins dwell here, along with vedalken, leonin, and the zombies known as the nim.

Long ago, the metal plane was created by Karn, the silver golem built by Urza, as a test of his new-found power as a planeswalker. He populated his planes with golems created in his own image and also built a "Warden" to watch over his plane as he explored the Multiverse.

But something went wrong. Karn unwittingly introduced a dark contagion to his own world: Phyrexian oil. Over the course of centuries, the oil took hold on Mirrodin, changing it and its inhabitants. The Warden grew unstable, gaining sentience and calling itself Memnarch. Over time Memnarch grew paranoid and angry, feeling abandoned by his creator.

And as Memnarch's madness grew, so did his power. Using arcane devices called soultraps, Memnarch kidnapped countless living things from other planes and brought them to Mirrodin. His goal was to find a being with the planeswalker spark and take it for himself, enabling him to leave Mirrodin and find his creator.

The elf Glissa Sunseeker was the first being born with the planeswalker spark on Mirrodin. Glissa uncovered the secret of her world: that it was hollow, and that its mythical tyrant was real and dwelled inside. Through her own guile and power as well as the help of her allies, Glissa defeated Memnarch. The soultraps were destroyed, and instantaneously the first generations of Mirrans vanished, returned to the planes from which they were taken.

The remaining Mirrans were left to deal with the disappearance of their eldest forebears. Few had any idea what had transpired inside their world—only that their grandparents, elders, and chieftains were gone. When Glissa and her goblin ally Slobad returned to the surface, they were set upon by hordes of panicked goblins. Slobad fell, and Glissa retreated back into the interior, where the tiny constructs that still scurried there kept her safe, sound, and sleeping ...

Meanwhile life continued on the surface as the Mirrans worked to resume their lives. But inside the plane, the Phyrexian contagion that Karn long ago brought to his own world continued its quiet work. The oil spread, and everything changed when the mycosynth reached the mana core that still shone inside Mirrodin. The Phyrexians had returned, and Mirrodin became overrun. It became New Phyrexia.

Spoiler:- New Phyrexia (Formerly Mirrodin):

What was once Mirrodin has been taken over and "compleated" by the newly-reborn Phyrexians. Unlike in its previous incarnation where Phyrexia fueled itself with colorless artifact mana and the black mana of decay and death, this time the Phyrexians infiltrated all five colors of mana and thus brought war on all fronts. However, this had the unintended consequence of factionalizing the Phyrexians based on their color-alignment. And so each alignment gained a Praetor to oversee that color.

The Machine Orthodoxy:
The white aligned Phyrexians, under the guidance of Elesh Norn, are a very literalist religious organization called "The Machine Orthodoxy". They worship a form of scripture called the Argent Etchings, but divide themselves into smaller sects. Three of the most prominent sects include The Flesh Singularity, The Porcelain Legion, and the Disciples of Karn. They seek to unify the Multiverse as Phyrexia in either a perfect hierarchy or level playing field.

The Flesh Singularity try to achieve total unity by literally flaying the creatures that inhabit the lands and sewing them together. The Porcelain Legion repurpose and adapt creatures by implanting white metal plates into their bodies (considering all white phyrexians have this porcelain like metal on their bodies), while the Disciples of Karn are holding Karn himself hostage and pushing him ever deeper into insanity in hopes of gleaning leadership from his madness.

The Progress Machine:
The blue aligned Phyrexians are led by Jin-Gitaxias from the ruined halls of Lumengrid. They hold themselves to higher degree of perfection than the other factions, and pursue what they refer to as "The Great Synthesis". They conduct experiments in various laboratories scattered across the Quicksilver Sea, described as "slaughterhouse like", creating new life forms and technology. They are the most organised group so far, with at least ten observable ranks. One of their great experiments is The Meldweb in which the original Pools of Insight are filled with the brains of hundreds of sentient beings all networked together.

The Seven Steel Thanes:
The Black Aligned Phyrexians are out for total and utter corruption, slaughter and enslavement, lead for the moment by Sheoldred. She is at the top of a food chain of thanes, who are all fighting a war of succession to be named the "Father of the Machines".

The Vicious Swarm:
The Green aligned phyrexians were among the first to strike, dominating the Tangle quickly. Like all phyrexians, the members of the Vicious Swarm believe that flesh is weak, but unlike the other phyrexians they believe that New Phyrexia should progress in a more natural way, based on the roles of predation, allowing the strong to emerge triumphant over the weak. They believe that artificial engineering should be restricted to make predators more efficient, and that sentience and sapience are curses, inadequate when compared to the raw power of instinct. Lacking any sort of organisation whatsoever, they are merely a massive variety of creatures that kill each other for the purpose of selecting the strongest. Vorinclex is the praetor of this faction.

The Quiet Furnace:
The Red aligned phyrexians built the Furnace Layer of Mirrodin, based on a similar layer of Old Phyrexia. Their primary function was to tend the forges there present, building weaponry and recycling failed phyrexians and mirrans alike. During the war days, they emerged to the surface in the mountains of Mirrodin, and expanded into the surface. While the majority of these phyrexians still dwell on the depths of the world, several now populate the Oxidda Chain, beasts designed in the fashion of mirran animals.Red phyrexians differ from all others in the way that they have strong emotions and individuality, and as such developed empathy for the mirrans. While still brutal creatures, their empathy proved strong enough to allow them to let mirran survivors to dwell on their plane, treating them as if they didn't exist. To hide this secret, as well as to avoid to deal with other factions, Urabrask demanded that all access to the Furnace Layer was sealed from the other factions, isolating him and his servitors; the surface phyrexians in the mountains serve as guardians to the entrances to the Furnace Layer. For the most part, the other factions ignore the Quiet Furnace, with the exception of the Progress Engine, which is paranoid about them.

The Mirran Resistance:
The Mirran Resistance are the remnants of the Mirrans that continued to be alive or uninfected even after the compleation of Mirrodin. They are composed mainly of Auriok, Vulshok, goblin, and leonin survivors together with the last remaining Moriok, Neurok, Sylvok, elf, loxodon, and vedalken inhabitants of the plane. Most of the survivors who are at the later stages of phyresis often die in the camps while they are cared for by those who are less sick. Others being the Incorruptable, who are immune to the effects of phyresis. The resistance have no centralised leadership and instead are led by several planeswalkers and other in their respective encampments. The Mirran Resistance continue to fight for the eventual purification of Mirrodin.

Spoiler:- Ravnica:

Ravnica is a vast, worldwide cityscape--a patchwork of grand halls, decrepit slums, ancient ruins, and layer upon layer of stonework structures. Of the world's countless civic centers, one looms large above all others: the City of Ravnica, a metropolis so vast that its name has long since become synonymous with the entire plane. It is here, amid mazes of streets and towering gothic spires, that Ravnica's guilds vie for power and controls

Ravnica's guilds had been openly at war for centuries, each claiming dominion over the others. Then something began to happen that gave the guilds pause: The spirits of the dead were lingering in the world. The guild masters of old agreed to divert their energy toward investigating the phenomenon, leading to the signing of the Guildpact, the ancient accord that established relative peace on the plane.

Each of the ten guilds mastered two of the five colors of mana, and each had its own cultural identity and essential function.

Boros (red-white): The Boros Legion believed in a higher law—one in which righteousness is fire, and justice the light that shines from it. Led by the angel Razia, the Boros were Ravnica's most formidable military force, and the enforcers of its laws.

Selesnya (green-white): "Once you are with us, you are an equal among us. Until then, you are lost," said the wolfrider evangel Tolsimir, an agent of the Selesnya Conclave. The Conclave thought itself a selfless, nurturing, spiritual congregation, but others regarded it as a brainwashing nature cult.

Golgari (black-green): The Golgari believed you can't truly live until you die. With its vast horde of undead that served as both standing army and labor force, the Golgari operated in Ravnica's undercity, slowly taking over abandoned and derelict areas like a fetid slime mold.

Dimir (blue-black): House Dimir was so secretive that only some knew that it even existed. Over the millennia, ghost stories about the Dimir grew more and more complex, telling of ancient, undead necromancer-advisors, phantasmal assassins, and slick, black horrors slithering through the endless maze of sewers under the city.

Orzhov (white-black): To find the Orzhov, the saying went, follow the gold. The so-called Guild of Deals was a rigid hierarchy with the wealthy ghost-patriarchs ruling from the top and countless indentured servants forming the base. Holding this fragile social order in place was a veneer of religious pomp and ritual, though few believed the Orzhov worship any god other than coin.

Gruul (red-green): The Gruul Clans celebrated base urges and lived by instinct, considering all of civilization to be an elaborate cage that suppresses desire. Once a powerful guild, the Gruul were an assemblage of beggars, gangs, and raiding parties, with the largest of their gangs led by the cyclops Borborygmos.

Izzet (blue-red): The undisputed masters of spellcraft and invention on Ravnica, the Izzet were rabid inventors, fusing elemental magics with technology to power their creations. Led by the capricious and unfathomably brilliant dragon Niv-Mizzet, the Izzet magewrights endlessly created and destroyed, driven only by rabid passion for discovery.

Azorius (white-blue): The Azorius Senate was the primary origin of all laws on Ravnica. The Azorius believed that their rigid system of governance kept nearly everything on Ravnica running smoothly. Justice is blind, and that included the guild's venerable Grand Arbiter, Augustin IV, who some say was blind to Ravnica's most significant problems.

Rakdos (black-red): The Cult of Rakdos was a thrill-killing, pleasure-seeking cabal led by the ancient demon Rakdos. Even as a force of chaos, the Rakdos were a resource for the law-abiding guilds; when the denizens of Ravnica needed an obstacle removed or an unsavory client entertained, the minions of Rakdos were happy to oblige.

Simic (green-blue): Amidst the chaos of Ravnican politics and strife, the researchers of the Simic Combine worked industriously to improve their world. The Simic were charged with maintaining nature on Ravnica. In ever stranger ways, the Simic "modified" nature so it could survive on a world increasingly blanketed under civilization.

Spoiler:- Zendikar:

If planeswalkers were moths, Zendikar would be a dazzling, fiery light.

All of Zendikar is dangerous. The world seems almost as though it's trying to kill its own denizens, whether with monsters, natural hazards, or traps laid for the unsuspecting. Everything on the plane is precarious, unpredictable, or just plain lethal. The world seems dead-set on protecting its unique treasures--both the literal ones, and the most prized, most ephemeral one: its mana.

Like other planes, Zendikar's lands flow with mana that mages can use to power their spells. However, Zendikar houses a "primal" mana. This spell-like mana seems almost alive to those who wield it. It has caused Zendikar to be a dynamic world crackling with intense magical effects. Sometimes the sea blasts forth geysers of elemental water that form floating islands; the peaks of mountains lurch up and down to crush those who would scale their heights; forests alter their own flow of gravity or patterns of growth.

To planeswalkers, this unique mana is an irresistible prize. To most of Zendikar's people, planeswalkers are foolhardy, power-hungry creatures who will risk life and limb for an elusive, unreliable prize.

Large, mysterious, stone hedrons litter the plane. They are remnants of a strange and ancient civilization that wielded unimaginable arcane power—enough to suspend gravity, to upheave the land itself, and to change the plane's life to suit its purposes. But long ago that civilization collapsed for reasons few know. Now these crumbling remains are scattered across Zendikar—some buried in the land, some slowly wearing away on the surface, and some still hanging in the sky. These ruins and artifacts still emanate power, although most denizens of the plane know better than to disturb them.

Zendikar's unique mana, the hedrons, and its own fierce ecology all combine to form erratic terrain subject to sudden, violent changes. The land itself seems alive, and its surface and botanical life sometimes writhe as though in pain, causing tectonic chaos, extreme weather, and abrupt destruction. All this volatility is collectively referred to as "The Roil."

For the sentient creatures of Zendikar, The Roil is simply a natural phenomenon—the way things are. To planeswalkers, it's obvious that this volatility is what keeps the plane dangerous and wild, free of large cities, sophisticated commerce, and other trappings of well-developed civilization. Zendikar is untamed ... and perhaps untamable.

The plane is also the location of the prisons of the Eldrazi, an ancient and powerful race that is said to have attempted to conquer the multiverse once in the past. They were sealed away three ancient Planeswalkers. But now, their prisons are weakening, and their minions are breaking free. Several Planeswalkers have returned, but their fight goes poorly.

Mana:
Mages and planeswalkers of the Multiverse can cast a vast array of spells—they can drain the life of a foe, supplement their allies with arcane strength, even summon a dragon. But all magic requires mana. Mana is the magical energy that powers spells. Where do you get it? Mana comes from the land. Mages must know a place to gather mana from it. Mana is scarce, so mages don't have infinite energy to cast spells. Mana is the magical energy fueling spells of spellcasters. It is also deeply interconnected with life-force in every plane, and it can take that role by itself as well. When there is no mana in an area, everything dies, and where mana's density is very low, lifeforms become emaciated and weak.
There are five colors of mana, and each comes from a different type of land:

Five Colors of Magic:White: White puts value in the group, the community, and its civilization as a whole. White's ultimate goal is peace, harmony, and perfection — a world where everyone gets along and no one seeks to disturb the bonds of unity that White had worked so long to forge. To govern and protect its community, White makes use of and puts value in a number of broad concepts; morality (ethics, grace, truth), order (law, discipline, duty), uniformity (conformity, religion), and structure (government, planning, reason). Spoiler:- More on White:

White mana comes from sprawling plains, sunlit savannahs, and windswept meadows. In Magic, white is the color of law, order, and structure. White magic heals and protects and is often a force for justice and honor. When a white mage fights, legions of troops thunder across the battlefield with their banners held high. Enemy hordes are routed outside the gates of a castle. When white unleashes its wrath, the battlefield is cleansed of all life.

Order, protection, light, law: These are white magic's values.

White mages achieve balance through strategy and organization. For white mages, society is more important than the individual. They build strong defenses, rally the troops, and protect their allies. White magic heals injured soldiers so they can answer the call of battle again and again. White mages amass enormous armies, but sometimes a single, awesome champion is necessary to teach the enemy a lesson. At their best, white mages are self-sacrificing and moral. At their worst, they are uncreative and even authoritarian.

White-aligned creatures are orderly, defensive, and cooperative. They gather fast and strike first. White mages summon majestic angels to devastate the unworthy. Legions of soldiers and knights form effective armies under a white mage's command. The soldiers might be small individually, but together they are overwhelming.

Each of the five colors of magic has two ally colors and two enemy colors. White is allied with green and blue. White mana and green mana share values of holism, order, and community. White and blue mana share values of thoughtfulness, structure, and progress.

White mana opposes red mana through the conflicts of order vs. chaos, defense vs. offense, and strategy vs. spontaneity. White mana opposes black mana through the conflicts of light vs. darkness, purity vs. corruption, and the needs of the many vs. the needs of the individual.

Blue:
Blue is the color that looks on the world and sees opportunity. For Blue, life is a chance to contemplate oneself, and what is possible, and to bring about the best of both. Implicitly, in that general world view, Blue believes in tabula rasa: it sees in each thing, the potential for being anything. One need only understand how, to make the change. So with this ill-formed goal before it, Blue reasons that if it is to make itself better, it must become capable of everything it could be capable of, for that is to "merely add" to its own capabilities. Blue believes it can't possibly be bad to acquire the potential for any conscious action. Thus, Blue, believing it is capable of changing anything if it understands the change, and believing it is imperative that it acquire every capability it could have, concludes that it is imperative that it understand change. Moreover, Blue decides that it must understand everything; for truly, understanding can only improve one's effectiveness in any task. To gain understanding, Blue must acquire knowledge. Since knowledge itself will inform every other decision, Blue forms its principle goal: omniscience, the knowledge of all. Spoiler:- More on Blue:

Islands provide blue mana—the magic of the deep sea and the endless sky. Blue magic is about deceit, logic, and illusion. To a blue mage, information and knowledge are paramount. Blue mages want to know everything, and they'll go to any lengths to do so. When a blue mage fights, tidal waves crash against rocky cliffs, the wind whips out of stormy skies, and an enemy's spells fail as their creatures vanish into thin air.

Knowledge, manipulation, wind, and wave: These are the blue mage's tools.

Blue magic is reactive, calculated, and methodical. Its strength lies in patience and intelligence. Blue mages work behind the scenes, scheming and stealing secrets. They control their environments completely before making a move. Blue spells and abilities focus on prediction and illusion. Blue is also the color of technology and artifice. At their best, blue mages are inventive and progressive. At their worst, they are manipulative and treacherous.

Examples of blue spells include crashing waves, whirlpools of Ćther, and even manipulations of time itself.

Blue-aligned creatures try to deceive their opponents or trick them into using magic in a way they didn't intend. Blue-aligned creatures often confuse, disguise themselves, or steal things from their enemies. Blue mages call wizards and weird beasts of the air and oceans to serve them. They summon crafty sphinxes, ferocious drakes, and elusive sprites. Titanic leviathans surface from the depths of the ocean to do their bidding.

Each of the five colors of magic has two ally colors and two enemy colors. Blue is allied with white and black. Blue and white mana share values of thoughtfulness, structure, and progress. Blue and black mana share values of secrecy, manipulation, and desire for omniscience.

Black:Black is the color of self-indulgence, parasitism, amorality and unfettered desire for power. It believes that the world is made for its taking and that the weak exist to be exploited by the strong. The essence of Black is to see one's own ego as so supremely invaluable, that the prospect of enslavement, of subordinating that ego to another, is utterly inadmissible. So, to be in accord with its perceptions and beliefs, Black simply must discard all obligations but to acquire power for itself. It can be no less than the one supreme being who is subordinate to no other, the possessor of all power in the universe - it must become omnipotent. Spoiler:- More on Black:

Black mana comes from dank swamps, where things fester and rot. Shadowy wastelands, haunted catacombs, and fetid bogs are all prime sources of black mana. Black is the color of death, fear, and amorality—these are the twisted values of the darkness. Black magic is powerful and easy to wield, but it comes with a high price. Black mages are self-centered and self-serving. They will do anything to get power—no matter what the cost.

Death, ambition, and darkness are the stock and trade of black mages.

Black mana offers a host of gruesome spells. Black magic can unearth the dead from their graves and make them walk again. It can spread a pestilence across the landscape and drain the life from all who live there. Black spells can curse victims in horrible and enduring ways. They can warp the mind, poison the land, and kill creatures instantly. But the price is high and the risks are many. At their best, black mages are ambitious and unashamed. At their worst, they are enslaving and devouring.

Examples of black spells are tendrils of corrupting shadow, command over the undead, and projection of crippling nightmares into the minds of enemies.

Undead skeletons and ghouls, unspeakable horrors, and diabolical demons are native to places of black mana, and they're as self-serving and treacherous as the mages who control them. Black magic isn't limited to these abominations, though—death-cultists and secret societies of assassins carry out black mages' nefarious plans under cover of darkness. Black mages control the most horrifying of creatures, but always at a price.

Each of the five colors of magic has two ally colors and two enemy colors. Black is allied with red and blue. Black and blue mana share the values of secrecy, manipulation, and desire for omniscience. Black and red mana share the values of individualism, instant gratification, and self-interest.

Black mana opposes white mana through the conflicts of darkness vs. light, corruption vs. purity, and the needs of the individual vs. the needs of the many. Black mana opposes green mana through the conflicts of death vs. life, decay vs. growth, and greed vs. abundance.

Red:Above all else, red values freedom of expression. It wants to do what it wants, when it wants, to whom it wants, and nobody can tell it otherwise. It believes that life would be much more fun if everyone stopped caring about rules, laws and personal appearances and just spent their time indulging their desires. This leads into red's other core value: chaos. Red sees order of any kind as pointlessly inhibiting, believing that only through embracing anarchy could everyone really be free to enjoy life to the fullest. Finally, red is the color of immediate action and immediate gratification. If it wants something it will act on its impulses and take it, regardless of the consequences. Spoiler:- More on Red:

Red mana flows from rugged mountain ranges, rocky crags, and the fiery heart of volcanoes. Red magic is about fury and passion. When a red mage fights, lightning arcs across the blood-red sky, lava erupts from the earth, and flash fires consume the land. Red mages can channel their wild emotions to raze a city or to harness flames into deadly weapons.

Freedom, fire, and impulse are the lifeblood of every red mage.

Red mages have no patience for talk or subtlety. They act quickly and recklessly. With red mana, a mage controls the power of fire and earth. Red mages scorch their enemies with fireballs or call down electricity from the sky. They can rattle the foundations of civilizations and destroy the land itself. At their best, red mages are dynamic, passionate, and unbound. At their worst, they are shortsighted, temperamental, and destructive.

Examples of red spells include rains of meteors, searing bolts of lightning, and huge gouts of flame.

Red-aligned creatures are warlike, frenzied, and dangerous. Red mages summon mighty dragons to dominate the skies. They send hordes of bloodthirsty barbarians or rampaging goblins to lay waste to their enemies. They also channel mystical energy and summon fire elementals of merciless power and destruction. Red creatures rage across the landscape cutting down anything that stands in their way.

Each of the five colors of magic has two ally colors and two enemy colors. Red is allied with black and green. Red mana and black mana share the values of individualism, instant gratification, and self-interest. Red and green mana share the values of action, base urges, and connection to the earth.

Green: Green is the color of nature, growth, interdependence and instinct. It believes that obedience the natural order alone is the best way to exist and thus favors a simplistic way of living in harmony with the rest of the world. This can often lead to it be perceived as a pacifistic color, as it does not seek to make conflict with the other colors as long as they leave it alone and do not disrespect nature. However, it is fierce when it feels threatened and can be predatory and aggressive if its instincts dictate. Spoiler:- More on Green:

The teeming forests overflow with green mana, the pulse of nature. Green magic is about growth, life, and brute force. When a green mage fights, massive creatures crash through the undergrowth, animals enlarge to gargantuan size, and wounds close before blood spills onto the ground.

Strength, ferocity, and life: These are the values that sustain the green mage.

Green mages understand that the world obeys the law of the jungle—everything is either predator or prey. Green mages do what they can to accelerate and protect nature: jungles expand, artifacts crumble, and creatures regenerate themselves. For green mages, even the plants become lethal weapons. At their best, green mages are instinctual and adaptive. At their worst, they are savage, unthinking, and predatory.

Examples of green spells include wild, lush growth, sudden predatory hunger, and the might of an entire stampede.

Green mages summon a huge variety of creatures, from forest-dwelling animals to territorial elves and awe-inspiring behemoths. Some green creatures are living wellsprings of mana; others overrun their foes in a mighty rush of ferocious power. From towering nature elementals to carnivorous wurms, green creatures are the biggest and mightiest around.

Each of the five colors of magic has two ally colors and two enemy colors. Green is allied with white and red mana. Green mana and white mana share the values of holism, order, and community. Green and red mana share values of action, base urges, and connection to the earth.

Spells and Summoning:
Summoning is the process by which a magic-user calls forth, or 'summons' a creature to do their bidding. summoning involves the creation of a faux entity based on the concept of that creature, which is pulled from the Ćther. These summoned creatures have no will of their own, and vanish when no longer needed. The summoning of unique, individuals is similar to this, but based on the concept of a specific individual and not simply off of a group or species.

Spells, are your standard magical fare. Each color alignment has a multitude of spells in its library. Some spells are easy, almost effortless affairs, while others require immense amounts of time, concentration, and mana to cast.

Both spells and summonings require the use of mana.

==========

Species and Classes (and other tidbits):
The Multiverse is home to dozens of different species, with dozens of different alignments and variants between their appearances on different planes. Practically any creature you can imagine is present. For this RPG, you're limited only by the need for your characters' species to be sentient. A list of known species in the Multiverse can be found here. And for the purposes of the RPG, you may essentially choose from any of the "Humanoid" or "Sentient Non-Humanoid" species. Then again, perhaps you hail from a plane where wombats and Pegusai are indeed sentient. I'm allowing a great deal of freedom when it comes to character creation.

Class represents the career or calling in life. There are as many classes as there are professions. Among them are archers, alchemists, artificers, assassins, barbarians, berserkers, bodyguards, clerics, knights, mercenaries, monks, mystics, ninja, pirates, rogues, samurai, shamans, soldiers, spellshapers, warriors, and wizards. And that's just scratching the surface. Within each class are a myriad of skills and specializations that are entirely up to you. A helpful guide or starting point can be found here.

Official Rules:
1. No god-modding.
2. Two/three character maximum.
3. Only control your own character unless given permission otherwise by the other character's owner.
4. No killing other OC's without their owner's permission.
5. If you wish to make an NPC with a large part then please just state that on the sign-ups so that it doesn't get killed. Otherwise it's open season.
6. You must have good grammar! Get a proofreader for all I care! Use the spell-check! Anything, just make sure things make sense. I can tolerate some slip-ups, but nothing on a constant basis.
7. Please try to post at least once every 2-5 days (unless you give me a reason why you can't). Any longer than that and we might lose you or leave you behind.
8. No making up histories for characters (even NPCs) that aren't your own.
9. I reserve the right to kick you out of this RPG if you break one of these rules seriously enough. I will, however, give you a chance to explain or redeem yourself so it won't be a "BAM goodbye" sort of deal

=====Sign-up Form=====

Name:Age: Gender: Species: (Must be sentient)Class: (Or as close as you can pin it down)Color(s): (I'm not putting a limit here, but be reasonable)Appearance: Personality:History:Abilities: (Describe the types of spells, summons, and/or powers your character can use)Equipment: (Any sort of items or artifacts the character carries with him/her)Plane From (w/description): (Summarize to the best of your ability)

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Here are my signups. I don't necessarily expect this much from everyone else...but I certainly won't object to it!

Spoiler:- Jareth of Alara:

Name: Jareth WildsoulAge: 28Gender:MaleSpecies:LeoninClass: Druid/Shaman-WarriorColor(s):Green/White/RedAppearance:Jareth is a giant of a cat, even for a fully-grown leonin. He stands more than eight-and-a-half feet tall, with shoulders more than three feet wide. He's long-limbed and heavily muscled, almost ridiculously so by human standards, but then again, most leonin are. His muscles, however, are extremely dense (giving him greater-than-expected strength) and are efficient at processing toxins (giving him greater endurance). Like all leonin and cats in general, he's naturally flexible, agile, and athletic; and possesses a grace that belies his great size. His body is covered with short white fur that's actually rather soft. His long tail is similarly covered and ends with an extra tuft of fur.

Jareth's eyes are a bright blue color, though when he draws upon his shamanic skills they become a fiery gold. Around his neck and head, Jareth sports a great mane, the same pure white as his body-fur. His mane is twisted into several braided strands by the side of his face, while the vast majority of it is allowed to flow freely. His two cat-like ears poke out through the mane. He has a few black markings and stripes on his face, but they are not very prominent, only above his cheeks and around his eyes. He has long, powerful, lion-like teeth (obviously), and has no qualms using them the same way a lion might.

At the end of his long, heavily-muscled arms are his hands, like anthropomorphised lion paws. Each of his five fingers ends with a semi-retractable (black) claw. His claws don't retract completely when not it use, and instead appear more like fingertips or heavy fingernails, which grants him (and Leonin in general) a level of dexterity he would otherwise not have. Nevertheless, when extended, his claws are nearly three-inches long, wickedly curved, and extremely sharp. Like all leonin, Jareth's long, powerful legs have an extra joint between the knees and ankles, which allows for more power and range of motion. Like his hands, his feet end in cat-like paws, though they're more akin to toes. He only has four toes on each foot. And like his fingers, each toe has a (fully) retractable, and wickedly curved, claw.

Jareth usually wears a set of specially-crafted minimal steel armor with a leather under-layer. The armor itself is a copper-bronze color and the under-layer is a dark brown. The armor is minimal, covering only his forearms, thighs, waist, and shoulders. The rest of his torso, arms, and legs are left exposed, but this allows for his greater mobility. The leather under-layer consists of wrappings and light-armor padding beneath the metal armor. He accents his ensemble with blue-and-white cloth wrapped around his waist. Finally, he wears a necklace of carved beads, teeth, and shells.

Personality: Jareth is a rather unique character, especially for a leonin. As a youngster he followed the rules and instructions of the pride, but is not opposed to finding ways around them (without breaking them). Still, he respects the rules of the pride and understands the inherent logic in their placement. He clearly enjoys his status and power as a Planeswalker; coming from a background in which his defining trait was his weakness, he sees the great power now afforded to him as a blessing.

Jareth is a noble being with an extreme distaste for evil and the corrupt. Growing up in the wilds of Naya, he came to value honor, duty, and family. He has an extreme aversion to weakness and values strength--of the body, mind, and spirit. In fact, it is through the spirit that Jareth found the core meaning of his existence. He is able to perceive and harness the inner nature of a being, giving him an inherent understanding of them and their motives. He embraces the natural world and draws his strength from it. Throughout his travels he has come to value the purity of wild nature, and feels that the "civilized" world lends itself to complacency, weakness, and laziness.

He embraces that wildness, drawing on the three different colored mana-lines that surged through Naya and forging a contradictory sort of personality. On one hand he embodies the values of the wild; dominance through strength, ferocity, savage competition, the survival of the most fit, intensity and fury, purity of thought and action. On the other hand he values the notions of honor and morality, of peace and society.

History: Jareth was born on the plane of Alara on the shard of Naya before the Conflux event that saw the five shards reunited. He was born to the Claws of Marisi, the nacatl tribe who lived in the lowland jungles of Naya. They survived by tooth and claw, competing with the elves, humans, and minotaur that also occupied the shard. It was a harsh existence, but full of satisfaction. The nacatl revered the world they lived in, giving thanks to the creatures they hunted for sustenance and respect to their enemies.

Jareth was born as an albino, a stigma among his people, described as "white as death", and so spent much of his life as an outcast. The only one who cared for him was his sister, Laena. Laena gained a great deal of prestige among her peers despite Jareth's status among the pride, and soon rose to the attention of the pride leader, their kha. Memoch, the kha of the Qasal Valley pride, asked her to be his mate. Laena accepted the position in hopes that Jareth would be accepted and honored as she had been. However, Jareth was barely tolerated, a fact that Jareth eventually came to accept as appropriate treatment.

Jareth was unique among his kin, not only for his bone white fur, but also due to his unique abilities to manipulate the magics of the soul. He could see deep into other beings, and see the very essence of their spirits. He could call that essence forth and manifest it in a multitude of ways, and despite his pariah status, he was considered the best healer in his tribe. This earned him none of the prestige that Laena thought it should, but Jareth once more just accepted that as his self worth to keep trouble from his sister.

As the celebration of the Marisi's Breaking of the Coil neared, Jareth sought to repay his sister for her support, and began a hunt for the feast celebration. Secretly he was hoping to gain the pride's respect, but when he brought down a Godsire Behemoth his kill was stolen by the worst of his persecutors, Feeros. Jareth was beaten and left to drag himself back to the feast. Once more though, Jareth kept his peace.

It was the next night that the Conflux event began, dragging the nacatl into its bitter struggle and war. During the following battles, Jareth's magic proved invaluable; he was able to support and protect his people while supplementing their power with his own. However, Laena was slain by an enormous dragon from the neighboring shard of Jund. Jareth's rage was unleashed. In a moment of absolute fury, his Planeswalker spark ignited, allowing him to tap into the shared red mana reserves of both Naya and Jund, and he slaughtered his way through his enemies until they were forced to retreat. Jareth's power flared out of control, and he accidentally planeswalked from the newly unbroken Alara.

He ended up on Kamigawa, where the spirit and physical worlds interlocked and overlapped. It was there that he learned what he had become, and grew to be at peace with what had befallen him. The powerful spirit energies of Kamigawa tested the limits Jareth's abilities and pushed them to new heights and levels.

From there, he sought out other worlds. The next plane he visited was the world-city of Ravnica. He did not stay long; he felt crushed and overwhelmed by the sheer lack of wilderness there. He was also witness to political and social corruption the likes of which he had never seen. For someone like Jareth, so in-tune with the spirits of beings, seeing the hollow lives of Ravnica's people was too much. He planeswalked away and found himself on Mirrodin with the leonin of the Razor Fields.

Mirrodin was a strange place for Jareth, but he found a connection with many of the other leonin inhabitants, and he recognized the beauty in which biology and metal fused together, a merging of the artificial and natural worlds that he would have thought impossible, and might have found repulsive before. But he saw the pure nature of the leonin tribes, and he witnessed that their connection to the artificial plane was much the same as his tribe's was to Naya.

Finally, Jareth found his way to Zendikar, a plane awash with rich, volatile, and powerful flows of mana. He spent a great deal of time on this wild plane, honing his skills and forging his power from the mana-lines. The connection of Zendikar's populace to the land was unique; the physical world itself was a danger to them, and yet they lived as best they could. Here, Jareth found balance, cooling his fiery temper, and nurturing his power at the same time.

However, when the Eldrazi began to arise, Jareth recognized that Zendikar was becoming too dangerous. He did his best to help the beings of Zendikar against that threat, but was overwhelmed by the larger Eldrazi brood. He was forced to 'walk away, seeking refuge on Mirrodin, but even Mirrodin had changed. The Phyrexians were rising, and they attacked the suddenly-appeared and weakened Planeswalker, forcing him once again to escape, this time back to his native Alara. He spent much time recovering under the care of Bant's healers, on the borders with Naya.

Abilities:Jareth is primarily a soul-mage, one who wields the magic of the soul. Through that magic he can bring out the inner power of himself or another and perceive their true intents and emotions. He deals mainly in green and white mana for this type of magic, but has experimented with red. White mana often is used to bolster defenses or restore someone physically and spiritually through the soul's grace, while green enhances one's physical attributes through the soul's might. His new red mana experiments allow him to call upon the soul's fire, wreathing oneself in flame and striking with blistering speed.

In addition, Jareth is capable of harnessing the powers of the creatures he has defeated (but only if they themselves align with white, green, or red mana-lines). He consumes the spiritual power of their soul (but not the soul itself) and is able to use it later on. He connects these defeated creatures to himself and is able to summon them.

Equipment:The Behemoth Sledge - This is a massive war-hammer, with its head carved in the visage of the great behemoths of Naya. It's enormously heavy, but Jareth possesses the physical strength needed to wield it with a single hand. Grappling Hook - A tool Jareth acquired on Zendikar, he's learned to use it as a snare and ranged weapon, and as a tool to help him traverse especially difficult terrain. Leonin Scimitar- Jareth was given this sleek weapon on Mirrodin from the tribes of leonin there. It is forged from the super-hard metals of the plane and provides an excellent compliment to his sledge's brute force.Plane From (w/description): Naya, Alara.

Spoiler:- Lance of Innistrad:

Name: Lance of Avacyn (pronounced "AH-vah-sin") Goldnight Age: ~100Gender:MaleSpecies:Vampiric AngelClass: Warrior-MageColor(s):White/Black/RedAppearance:Lance is rather tall, standing over six and-a-half feet. He's well built, with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. Like most angels of Innistrad, his body is powerful but lean, emphasizing muscle tone over muscle size, with his superhuman strength negating the need for huge muscles. Indeed, Lance's body looks and feels almost like it was chiseled out of stone or forged from steel. His combined angelic/vampiric nature means that his body is more resilient, and more resistant to injury and fatigue than a human of similar size and build. Due to his hybrid nature, he does not have either the pale grey skin-tone of a vampire nor innate the glowing ethereal light of an angel, but rather he has something in between, something that makes him usually look quite human. Lance also has a great pair of angelic wings that he's learned to withdraw into his body and make less conspicuous. His wings, once pure, glowing, ethereal white, have been diminished by his hybrid nature, and a tinge of blood-red highlights color the edges of his wings.

Lance's facial features are strong and defined; he owes his good looks to both his vampiric and angelic nature, both of which are renowned for their aesthetic appeal. Since becoming a vampire, however, his features have sharpened and taken on a more predatory glean. He has dark brown hair that reaches just past his shoulders, and dark brown eyes that have been described as "soul melting" (oh, if they only knew!) His long vampiric canine teeth are usually easy to hide and conceal, and appear normal unless Lance loses control.

When Lance loses control or allows himself to change, his vampiric nature manifests different physical characteristics. First and foremost, his hair changes color, turning a blinding platinum, white-gold color. His eyes turn entirely black, while his irises glow a hellish fiery orange-red. His canine teeth on his upper and lower jaw elongate into fangs, and he is able to elongate his fingernails into razor-sharp claws. Most stunningly, however, is the change to his wings. While they might otherwise be white, his transformed nature turns his feathers black (though they still keep the blood-red highlights).

Lance abandoned the garments he wore during his service the typical white-and-black-robes-and-leather under armor look that all angels of the Church of Avacyn wear. He has kept the basic black leather, with its high gold-trimmed collared shirt, and the flexible armor chest-plate, but his abandoned the white robes for a black, armor-reinforced, leather trench-coat, with metal plating on the shoulders and forearms. Slits in the lower half of the coat are there to not hinder his flexibility, while two slits in the back are placed specifically for his wings to emerge from. He wears a pair of leather sword-belts on his waist and always carries a Mask of Avacyn with him, though he rarely (if ever) wears it.

Personality: Before his fall, Lance was a humble, devoted, and courageous angel belonging to the Church of Avacyn. He served the order faithfully, dedicating himself to the protection of humans and destruction of all dark forces on the plane of Innistrad. He was motivated by duty, honor, virtue, and loyalty. But it was those qualities that brought him low and turned him into an abomination. His sense of duty and purpose, his desire to see the righteous cause of the Church through to completion drove him to confront and accept a pact with dark forces in exchange for the power and ability to conquer even darker ones.

Now Lance barely resembles his former self. He is cunning, calculating, and deadly. His devotion to an ideal has become devotion to himself, and he often exemplifies the self-indulgent nature of vampirism. He's self-serving and selfish. He has dedicated his existence to following his whims, and this easy life of pleasure has brought him detachment and easy confidence. He has become a sort of bon vivant, seeking novelty and new diversions. But despite his fundamentally hedonistic nature, Lance does feel the pull of more lasting concerns, and over his long life this tendency has resulted in an arcane schedule of engagements and forays to far-flung planes. As a result Lance is a busy man, planeswalking frequently to pursue concerns known only to him. Lance always seems to have business elsewhere.

He's become a charmer and a smooth-talker in this time, he has a vicious way with words and a critical eye that combine to make him extremely competent at picking someone apart and deducing what makes them tick. His ability to analyze and dissect people and situations mentally, combined with his physical nature and sangromancy has made him an incredibly deadly individual.

Lance relates to others as his playthings, as he's found few beings capable or worthy of gaining his respect. He's found immense pleasure in traveling the multiverse. Essentially, he's a narcissist, with an "I come first" sort of attitude. This is most apparent in his pursuit of women. He's the ultimate lady-killer and seducer, using his good looks, charisma, and powers to charm and steal (and subsequently break) the hearts of women everywhere. He's a connoisseur of the one-night-stand and is prone to seducing women of nobility, "just for the challenge." But Lance's eye isn't for power; he appreciates beauty no matter what social class it's found in. Unfortunately for those women, he often leaves them in rather deplorable states...if they're lucky.

Upon going into battle, however, Lance changes completely. He becomes like a machine, unceasing, unflinching, and his unrelenting drive to kill. He is no longer either stoic or laid-back, but determined and focused. He becomes something else entirely, and it is in this "dark other" that his separation from humanity becomes most evident. In the blink of an eye Lance can turn from womanizer to a serious, hyper-lethal warrior. Lance becomes vicious, ferociously efficient and brutal. He shows no remorse or hesitation and has no pity for weakness and stupidity. In this mindset, it's clear that he's no longer an angel, that he is indeed something terrifying, and it takes him some time to pull himself back from this state of hyper-awareness and hyper-lethality once his hunger is sated.

"Hyper-lethal" is the most appropriate way of describing Lance. His true nature is that of a killer: he combines the worst and most deadly aspects of an angel's unflinching determination with a vampire's sadism and hedonism. Within him lurks his "Dark Passenger," a pseudo-aware aspect of his personality that resulted from the mix of powers, energies, and magic that came with his fall and the subsequent ignition of his Planeswalkers spark. The Passenger drives him to fulfill the Hunger and the Need, the primal urges of his hybrid nature.

In truth, however, there is a hidden part of Lance that secretly fears and hates his Dark Passenger. It's likely that Lance developed his playboy persona as a way to mask his "dark passenger" from both the world and himself. He fears his darkness and worries that it will overtake him and turn him into a monster. So he carries himself with a sort of cool, laid-back, nonchalant attitude and engages in and meaningless romantic trysts, hoping that it will stave off his dark passenger and ignite a better part of him. He's had little luck, however, and his continued use of his "mask" has only served to make him more aware of how deep his darkness goes. He's perfectly willing to follow the rhetoric of fighting for "love and glory" but inside he feels nothing. Many of his relationships remain superficial because he finds it hard to connect with other people beyond that superficial level.

History: Lance was an angel Avacyn's Host. One of the Flight of Goldnight that represents the sun. As a Goldnight angel, he served most actively during the time of the Harvest Moon, the autumn season when a huge orange/red blood moon hangs in the night sky and when the vampires are at the fullest of their power. Because of this, Lance was always wary, yet very knowledgeable of vampires and their powers. He fought bravely to defend humans during this time and became known to the vampires as the infamous and feared "White Reaper." He was one of the Church's most devoted and well-respected angels.

He found companionship with a young woman named Thalia, the Avacynian Guardian of the city of Thraben, and even though affairs between humans and angels were discouraged, they often met in secret regardless.

Then there came the day when the demon lord Withengar rose up and threatened the existence of all Innistrad. His immense power made it so that even the Avacynian angels could scarcely harm him. In fact, it was because they were angels that they couldn't even get close to him without feeling weakened. The devoted Lance, knowing something had to be done, sought out the ancient vampire Olivia Voldaren, one of the oldest beings on Innistrad and asked her to impart the vampiric curse upon him. Olivia was amused and declined at first, eager to assert her superiority over one of her hated angelic-enemies. But Lance stood firm and told her that if Withengar was not stopped, then all of Innistrad would fall. That seemed to convince the immortal vampire of the direness of the situation and she relented.

No longer fully hindered by the dampening power of Withengar, Lance attacked. He used his new power and abilities and fought Withengar for hours. Still, it wasn't enough, and the demon proved too strong, even for a vampire-angel hybrid. Waiting for the death-blow, however, Lance's Planeswalker spark ignited. It altered the nature and level of his powers and he drove the ancient dagger, Elbrus, into Withengar, binding him to the blade.

Lance was beaten and near-death, and his body could barely stand the volatile mix of angelic, vampiric, and Planeswalker energies that had so suddenly flooded through it. He collapsed and remained in a coma for weeks on end. During this time, he was tended to by the angels and by Thalia as his body slowly worked to adjust itself.

It is said that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. This is not true. What doesn't kill you leaves you weaker and more vulnerable. And Lance's vampiric curse left him more vulnerable to the whispers of a voice that rose up within him, a shadow self, a dark passenger that urged him further and further from his angelic nature and called on him to embrace the darkness and the Need of his vampiric curse.

While he was in his coma, he was sought out by the Voldaren vampires, eager to see and study the angel who would willingly join them. They raided the hospital and captured him, bringing him to Olivia's mansion in the wilderness. He awoke with his mind blurred and confused, and was told by Olivia that he had been exiled from Avacyn's Church and would have been killed if not for her intervention. Their vampiric nature called to each other, power calling to power, and the two began a torrid affair that lasted for several weeks. During this time, Lance embraced the Hunger and the Need, giving in to the voice of his Dark Passenger.

But Olivia had lied. One month later, a host of angels and warriors, led by Thalia herself, appeared at the manor. They attacked, demanding Lance's release, but were stunned by his transformation. Several angels attempted to kill him for his transgression, but Lance dispatched them with ease. He killed many others before Thalia confronted him with the truth. Shocked out of his state, he flew into a rage and attacked the Voldaren as well until he came upon Olivia. She admitted the truth, but asked him if it was really so bad. She told him that he would never be accepted among Avacyn's Host again and that they would kill him the next time they saw him.

He ignored her and returned with Thalia. But Olivia was correct, at least partially. He was no longer trusted by the angels and was resented for his killings. Still, Thalia never left his side, and never wavered in her faith in him.

Not a month later, a group of mighty demons appeared. The largest was a being calling himself the Archdemon of Greed, who was followed by a Bloodgift Demon and the Reaper from the Abyss. But the most powerful by far was the demon Ob Nixilis, who was radically different in of appearance and power from all of Innistrad's other demons. Thalia was called to join the fight against them, but Lance was ordered to stay away. He was not trusted after the events at the Voldaren estate. But the demons proved exceptionally powerful, and even Avacyn herself could not stand against them all.

Lance followed the call of his Dark Passenger and intervened. Using his new-found powers over blood, the dark magic of Sangromancy, he easily slaughtered the Archdemon and used his powers to fight back and torture Ob Nixilis. Cries of terror went up all around him, and only then did he understand that they were directed at him. The angels found him an abomination. Even Thalia wore an expression of pure terror on her face. Distracted, Lance lost control over Nixilis, who revealed himself as a Planeswalker and vanished into the Blind Eternities.

Furious at being betrayed by the angels and the vampires, Lance paid the demon little heed instinctively planeswalked away. He spent the next several years traveling the Multiverse, attempting to find others like himself. And though he found angels, demons, and vampires, he never found anyone else like him.

He eventually found himself on Zendikar, hunting down Ob Nixilis, who had become stranded on the plane when his Planeswalker spark failed him. During this time, the Eldrazi brood began to emerge, and Lance realized the plane was no longer safe, even for such a being as him. He left Ob Nixilis to his fate, and 'walked to Ravnica, where he took up residence with the Boros Angels and was able to hide his darker nature.

Abilities:Like all angels, Lance is adept in white magic, especially with regards to battling evil. Spells of banishing, cleansing light, and devastating waves of purifying energy. Upon receiving the vampiric curse, however, Lance was able to harness red and black magic as well, the colors of Innistrad's elder vampires. Aside from access to the standard spells of fire and lightning typical of a red mage, he also manifested a rare and powerful type of black magic. Sangromancy, the magic of blood, a dark corner of black mana specialization. With this blood magic he can drain the lifeforce of other beings, place curses on enemies, and even possess the minds and bodies of others. One of his favorite methods of attack, however, is to create a "blood shadow", a deep-red shadow that forms around him, and with it, tear his enemies to pieces.

Equipment:The Black Blade - A greatsword that once belonged to the ancient Planeswalker Dakkon. After each heating of the weapon during its creation, Dakkon plunged it into a powerful slave to steal his or her life-force. The sword was a soul-drinker, a blade capable of stealing the energy of those it killed. The long-since deceased Planeswalker had abandoned his fabled weapons in the wastes of Dominaria, and Lance found himself drawn to the blade from across the multiverse. The blade called out to him and his Passenger, and he claimed it as his own.Elbrus, the Binding Blade - The dagger used to slay and bind the demon Withengar. It still carries the demon's spirit and essence, which was one of the contributing forces that combined and resulted in the ignition of Lance's Planeswalker spark.Mask of Avacyn & Silver-Inlaid Dagger- Two pieces of equipment given to all angels and soldiers of the Avacynian Church, though Lance rarely (if ever) uses them anymore. The mask is a tool of defense, protecting its bearer against dark forces. The dagger is a weapon especially effective against werewolves, vampires, and other monsters.Plane From (w/description): Innistrad.

Spoiler:- Claire of Zendikar:

Name: Claire Mizzet (originally Claire Noraine)

Age:28Gender:FemaleSpecies:Human/ElementalClass: Wizard-ShamanColor(s):Red/Blue (Black - As the "Destroyer")Appearance:Claire is rather tall for a woman, standing just over 5-feet, 9-inches (1.8m) tall. She's a deadly beauty, with sharp features: full lips, a slender nose, and focused hawk-like eyes. Her red-blonde hair is long and hangs just past her shoulders in the back. She usually ties the back in a ponytail while allowing the front to hang loose and frame her face. Her eyes are a strikingly bright blue.

On the surface, Claire has a rather slender, succulent physique, with long, smooth legs, curved hips, slim waist, and full breasts. On closer inspection, however, it becomes apparent (sometimes painfully) that Claire is powerful; ripplingly strong with explosive force, appropriate to one of her elemental alignment. Each muscle is lean: iron-hard and as taught as a bowstring. She doesn't have many marks or scars, though her hands are rather callused and nicked up from all her tinkering. The Izzet League's healing salves were very potent, and any substantial injuries she received were taken care of immediately. She's rather tan after all the years spent exploring the multiverse, especially from her time on Lorwyn and Zendikar. It also helps that her pyromancer nature has made her immune to fire, sunburns and sun-damage, so she has nothing to fear from being over-exposed to the sun.

Claire has the ability to change into her flame-kin elemental form, in which she adopts the physical characteristics of the Lorwyn flame-kin, who resemble humans made of smooth, living black stone with horned faces with graceful features; their inner fires blaze through their crowns, joints, and shoulders. Flamekin can control their flames, allowing them to wear textiles and safely interact with non-flamekin. Like Ashling, who she based her form off of, Claire also has numerous white "tattoos" over her stone body: bold, swooping tribal markings on her arms, legs, thighs, torso, and cheeks. Claire's horns are not as prominent as some of the horns of other flame-kin.

When possessed by the mark of the Fireheart and transformed into an unrelenting destroyer, her flame-kin form changed. Her fingers elongated and sharpened into stone claws, her tattoos began to glow fiery red, and her flames turned a disturbing purple-black.

Now that she's on Lorwyn/Shadowmoor, Claire has adopted the dress of the flame-kin. The clothes are rather minimal; she wears a simple red fabric skirt, tied in the back to a fabric top that covers just her breasts and the upper part of her torso. It leaves her midriff, legs, arms, and the center of her chest exposed, but due to the nature of the flame-kin's stone bodies, that isn't really an issue. For the time spent in her natural human form, however, Claire has opted to bring with her a special set of armor clothes that were developed especially for her by the Izzet League. They consist of thigh-high boots that are incredibly flexible and durable, a fireproof mizzium plate-skirt that she can wear over her other clothes, a specially-designed under-layer of flexible and durable fabric-armor for her arms and torso, and fireproof mizzium plate armor for her shoulders and right gauntlet.

Personality: Claire has been described as "smokin," "hot," "smokin hot," and "DAMN!" Literally. In both a physical and emotional sense. She's fiery and determined, fiercely independent and confident. She is flirty, vibrant, and full of live, a rarity for someone who has gone through the tortuous ordeals, training, and battles of being dumped on a strange world with no memories of your old life. On top of that she's quick-witted and clever, eager to discover new places, technologies, or events, and uncover hidden meanings and deeper truths. She's the consummate scientist-explorer, a true merging of Ravnica and Zendikar's nature.

Her instinct is tempered by logic; her individualism is tempered by her tact and patience, as science and invention is often a waiting game. She desires change and new adventure, constantly breaking barriers and defying expectations. She seeks out knowledge and the "new" without concern for what others think of her. For Claire, everything takes a back seat to the notion of movement and going forward. This has served to craft her into a highly ambitious person. She is spontaneous and creative.

As the Destroyer, however, she's enraptured in nothing but destruction. All she craves is the feeling annihilation and the satisfaction of killing. She's more a living force of destructive nature than a truly sentient being. A dark corruption of the elemental.

History: Claire was born on the plane of Zendikar, into a clan of nomadic pyromancers who were able to connect and "commune" with the various elementals native to the plane. Zendikar's dynamic roils of mana produced powerful elementals, unique among all others of the multiverse. They were especially wild and dangerous, but Claire's clan was able to broker agreements and deals with these great creatures, using a combination of blue magic to convey their thoughts and intentions and and red magic to provide the raw inner fire and spark of focus to win the elemental's cooperation. Even as a toddler, Claire showed remarkable promise and instinct for their craft (likely due to her Planeswalker's spark), able to commune and harness tiny spark and cinder elementals as soon as she could walk. She was incredibly imaginative in her abilities and showed the potential to outstrip any of the other clan members before she was seven years old.

This was not to be the case. An ancient and powerful elemental, the Obsidian Fireheart, was none to pleased with her clan's perceived meddling in its affairs, and it attacked. Despite the resistance and fierce counter-attack by the clan, they were unable to stop the creature's rampage. It devastated the clan's camp. When it came upon Claire, her natural instincts took over and she attempted a communion with it. Unfortunately, the Fireheart's will was much too powerful for the inexperienced (and only six years-old) Claire. Instead of a communion, the Fireheart imprinted onto Claire, marking her body and soul with its essence and influence. Overwhelmed, Claire's Planeswalker spark ignited in the conflagration, and she instinctively 'walked away.

She appeared on the city-plane of Ravnica, drawn there by extra-planar experiments performed by the Izzet League. Intrigued by the strange girl that suddenly appeared, the guild leader and Parun, Niv-Mizzet, had his subordinates take her in. When Claire came to it was apparent that she was suffering from a case of selective amnesia. She could not remember where she had come from or who she had been before. Mizzet promised to help Claire if she would agree to take part in some harmless tests and experiments that would determine the nature of her powers.

Mizzet, being the hyper-intellect that he was, had of course, already determined that Claire was both a Planeswalker and from Zendikar. And through his psychic abilities he had uncovered all there was to know about her life. He was still interested, however, in discovering and understanding the nature of the Planeswalkers' abilities, and took Claire on as both his test subject, and his personal assistant and apprentice.

Claire excelled in the Izzet League. She eagerly absorbed whatever Mizzet taught her and used it to further her understanding of her own abilities. With more knowledge came the ability to create more intricate communions with elementals and her skill as a pyromancer increased exponentially. While pyromancy in itself is a magic of emotion, instinct, and freedom; Claire's understanding of intricate, logic-based blue magic allowed her to create more complex and effective fire constructs and spells, not just wildly destructive bursts of flame.

She became quite proficient in artifice and science as well. The Izzet League, as the home of theoretical science, invention, and spellcraft on Ravnica, encouraged experimentation and progress. Claire began tinkering with artifacts and machinery, following in Mizzet's footsteps to become a master of red and blue magic and methodology. Through the uniqueness of the combined magics, she was able to develop a system for gaining an instinctive understanding of any system, be it mechanical or biological and natural. For Claire, the mechanical systems are much easier to change and tinker with, but understanding natural phenomena and biological functions is just as important. She is also capable of combining her elemental magic with her knowledge of machines to create mechanical and artifact-elementals. Elementals of science.

Mizzet also taught Claire about her nature as a Planeswalker, and he found use for her abilities. He sent her to various worlds, pinpointing their energy wavelengths and signatures, and their multiversal locations. This allowed him to create an ever-growing map of the multiverse to satisfy his curiosity. It also allowed him to acquire artifacts, items, and knowledge from other planes. With Claire able to gather these things, the Izzet League obtained information and power not native to Ravnica, able to delve into realms of study that would have otherwise been inaccessible.

During her time growing up on Ravnica, however, Claire also felt drawn to the greater Multiverse, she wanted to explore it and find out where she had come from. During a bout of teenage rebellion, she 'walked from Ravnica and found herself on Mirrodin. The artifice there astounded her, and she immediately returned to Mizzet with new designs and projects for the League. Still, the seeds of exploration had been planted.

It was, ironically, another Izzet League experiment that would see her leave Ravnica for an extended period of time. Niv-Mizzet's attempt to duplicate her Planeswalking energies and create stable portals to other planes resulted in a backlash of power that sent Claire spiraling through the multiverse. She ended up on the plane of Lorwyn, and though she could have easily returned to Ravnica, she chose to remain. She sensed the presence of powerful and unique elementals on the plane, a familiar feeling, and she thought she might have arrived at her home. She was disappointed to learn from the flame-kin of Lorwyn, however, that there were no humans on the plane.

Still, she felt drawn to the flame-kin, and spent many weeks with them. On Lorwyn she rediscovered her shamanistic routes and once again drew upon the natural--instinctive--world for inspiration and power. She forged a close friendship with a young flame-kin named Ashling, and the two of them journeyed across the plane together on a pilgrimage seeking out greater elementals, mythical embodiments of higher nature principles. Like Claire's clan on Zendikar, Ashling and other flame-kin pilgrims sought to commune with these higher principles; but rather than subjugating and controlling them, they would offer themselves to the elemental. If deemed worthy, the elemental would become one with them and they would grow exponentially in power.

Enamored with this idea, Claire accompanied Ashling on her pilgrimage, hoping that she too would be recognized as worthy by one of these greater powers. She learned, however, that one needed to be a flame-kin, a creature of elemental substance, for the ritual to complete itself. With this in mind, Claire set out on the most ambitious undertaking of her life. Using all her knowledge of biological structures and processes, elemental crafting, artifice, and physical makeup, she transformed her body. She herself became an elemental, a flame-kin nearly identical to Ashling. She had enough foresight to attempt this slowly and methodically, making sure that she was not stuck in this form or crippled by the transformation. But as time went by, she found herself spending more and more time in her flame-kin form than her human one.

She and Ashling continued their pilgrimage until they were approached by a greater elemental. It was a being of duality, of two-ness; of courage and strength and determination, and it found Claire and Ashling both worthy. Both attempted a joint-communion with the elemental, and for a moment all three were one.

But something went terribly wrong. The mark and scar of the Obsidian Fireheart, left on Claire's soul so long ago, reacted wildly and violently with the presence of the greater elemental. It vanished the great spirit before it could bestow the two with its full power and presence and transformed Claire into a twisted nightmare of a flame-kin. She was out of control: a destroyer, crushing anything in her path. Only Ashling was able to calm her down and get her to regress to her normal human state. Claire was greatly disturbed by what she'd done, but some of her lost memories had returned to her. She remembered her family and where she had come from: Zendikar. The remaining answers lay there. She bid Ashling a teary farewell; both promised one another that they would fulfill their goals and meet again one day, and she returned to Zendikar.

There, she explored the turbulent plane of her birth, seeking out whatever remained of her clan and family. She rediscovered Zendikar, sampling the unique mana. She also sought out the Obsidian Fireheart, the ancient being that lay some sort of claim on her soul. After many years of searching, she finally found it. They clashed, and she was surprised to discover that it had a complex sentience. It wanted to commune with her, but to take her body and powers for itself rather than the other way around. Claire would have none of that. She drew on all her power and experience and fought against its influence, but only succeeded in forcing a stalemate. It was at that moment, however, that the area became overrun with the Eldrazi brood, and Zendikar began descending into madness. Claire initially attempted to fight against the abominations, hoping to protect the plane (and by extension her clan), but found herself outmatched. With the knowledge of what was transpiring on Zendikar, she returned to Ravnica, seeking the aid and counsel of Niv-Mizzet.

With the Izzet League's resources and her Planeswalking ability, Claire began to gather an arsenal of artifacts and weaponry that she hoped she could use to turn the tide against the Eldrazi. With all the pieces in play, she sought the final move, a true communion with a greater elemental of Lorwyn. However, upon arriving, she found that the plane had since become the dusky Shadowmoor. Ashling was no longer herself, and was instead a being similar to what Claire had become: a destroyer, an extinguisher of life. Torn between helping her home and helping her friend, Claire chose to remain on Shadowmoor and free it from its darkness.

Abilities: At her core, Claire is a pyromancer, a wielder and manipulator of flame. She inherited the innate abilities of her clan to wield a form of shamanistic, elementalist-based pyromancy as well, which allows her to connect and "commune" with elementals. She is able to broker agreements and deals with these great creatures, using a combination of blue magic to convey her thoughts and intentions and and red magic to provide the raw inner fire and spark of focus to win the elemental's cooperation. During her time with the Izzet League, she eagerly absorbed whatever Mizzet taught her and used it to further her understanding of her own abilities. With more knowledge comes the ability to create more intricate communions with elementals and her skill as a pyromancer increased exponentially. While pyromancy in itself is a magic of emotion, instinct, and freedom; Claire's understanding of intricate, logic-based blue magic allows her to create more complex and effective fire constructs and spells, not just wildly destructive bursts of flame.

She is quite proficient in artifice as well. The Izzet League, as the home of theoretical science, invention, and spellcraft on Ravnica, encouraged experimentation and progress. Claire began following in Mizzet's footsteps to become a master of red and blue magic and methodology. Through the uniqueness of the combined magics, she was able to develop a system for gaining an instinctive understanding of any system, be it mechanical or biological and natural. For Claire, the mechanical systems are much easier to change and tinker with, but understanding natural phenomena and biological functions is just as important. She is also capable of combining her elemental magic with her knowledge of machines to create mechanical and artifact-elementals. Elementals of science.

During her time on Lorwyn, Claire achieved what might be called the peak of her craft. She used her knowledge of elemental, natural and artificial mechanics to transform her body into a flame-kin elemental body. In this form she has increased durability (made of rock) and strength, and a more innate connection to the elements.

Equipment:Barbed Battlegear - an armor made of a hybrid Mizzium-darksteel alloy that offers Claire protection while being able to withstand the intense heat she generates. The armor controlled mentally (and partially-subconsciously) with a combination of blue and red magic, and is designed to work alongside her skill with artifice; to change and adapt according to her needs. It can (to an extent) form itself into weapons (or weaponized limbs) or form itself into thicker and heavier armor. But it cannot increase or decrease its mass, and cannot do both at once. Usually she wears it in its most compressed form, as the plate skirt, shoulder-armor, and gauntlet, where it's easily accessable. It can shift to become more armor or a quick weapon at a moment's notice.

Plane From (w/description): Zendikar

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Alright, here goes, my first character! The second may come either late this day or tomorrow

Name: Gibrael Vons

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Class: Cleric

Color(s): White

Appearance: Upon spotting Gibrael, even if simply walking in the distance, one is automatically reminded of a holy figure, though ghostly and mysterious. He wears the same garments at all times, a constantly flowing loose robe of gleaming white made of several layers of silk, some dyed blue or red. This vest covers most of his body but the head (the hood is kept down at nearly all times) and in more ways than one resembles the Dawn Elemental in texture, but with a slightly altered colour scheme.

Gibrael himself is not that impressive physically. While well built, he does not possess a huge frame or a towering figure. Though he is slightly toned, mostly from his young life in the farm combined with the hard life he’s faced since those days, he still appears too young to cause any powerful impression. His face is round and boy-ish, with small lips and tiny blue eyes that can pierce your soul and judge your every sin. His hair used to be blonde, but ever since he absorbed the Elemental creature at the moment of his spark’s first trigger it has turned a striking white (not grey nor colourless) and flows softly all the way to his neck, resembling a field of wheat being struck by a gentle wind whenever a breeze makes it dance.

Personality: Following in the true path of both his religious teachings and the elemental colour he’s been surrounded by since birth, this boy has grown under strong beliefs he’d sooner die for than corrupt. First and foremost, he believes one should be true to himself above all else: if there is evil in your heart, face it and work to eliminate it, even if it takes your entire life to do it and your victory is achieved only on your deathbed. Secondly, he believes in the possibility that everyone, not matter their past, personality or deeds, can be absolved and be reborn anew as a better individual, even if by force.

These traits make him both naive and selfish, not to mention a dogmatic, in regards to his outlook on society and humans as a whole.

After his awakening, the beliefs and powers born from the creation of a Planeswalker and the absorption of an elemental of purity, cleansing, renewal and immortality were incorporated as his own. While naive and altruistic before, believing his powers as a healer and spiritual advisor would bring about a better world, when confronted with the immensity of the multiverse he switched goals: he would still help anyone he could, but now he aimed for a better society in and of itself, even if he’d need to cleanse the souls of every living being and make them all start anew in every plane he visited.

History:Gibrael started small: he lived on a small village with his parents and dedicated his time to his family and their little farm. He lived far away from both wars of blade and wars of coin and considered his small town the only world he’d ever care about. That soon changed.
Living all his life in that tight community, Gibrael only ever experienced the more pleasant aspects of society: he knew his neighbours by name and helped them with their crops and he shared food with them, and gave them aid when necessary. He considered this normal and customary for the whole world, for that was all he knew of it and human society.

It was the day that a group of rebels pillaged his village, killing, stealing, raping and burning everything in their path that he saw this illusion break. As one of the few survivors of a burnt out village he saw his purpose on this world disappear, and sought refuge in religion. He followed the path of a cleric and came in touch with the soothing beauty that was white mana: he became quite the healer and gained wisdom in the words of the priests and messiahs that came before him. He understood everything he read, except one thing: if Humans are misguided creatures, how can they be forgiven for their sins with anything other than death? He was young and bore little tolerance. He lacked his present understanding and forgiveness.

What brought forth his new self was an event fate had thrown him: during his travels from town to town, the ones he made as a cleric and wandering priest, he came across the same group of bandits that had killed his family and friends as they rampaged on yet another village, and his composure was lost. For the first time in his life, he was thrown into a field of war.

He did not last long.

He was easily dispatched and his near lifeless body was thrown off the cliff the village was built on. On this moment, as he plunged backwards into death and as the sky grew farther and farther away from him, he felt power welling inside him. His Planeswalker spark was igniting. There was a surge of power and an explosion of white mana, though that was not all. A Dawn Elemental, a being made of pure white mana said to be immortal, was drawn to this man’s heart and cause and captured during the surge of power erupting from the awakening.

Gibrael’s transformation entered the final stage and he started reabsorbing the white mana he’d expelled only to end up sucking in a being made of the same material. Gibrael, still glowing pure power, flew upwards from the cliff and landed right in the middle of the bandits (who could do nothing but stand in awe as the light faded and revealed a new being.)

Gibrael wasted no time. Each and every pillager was pierced by a powerful, physical stream of white mana that flooded their entire being, including their soul. They were forcibly cleansed clean of all sins, urges and memories of times of evil and reborn anew as new, pure beings; free to live a new life unburdened by past sins. It was the ultimate gift of compassion.

Gibrael spent the rest of his time as a Planeswalker getting to know the multiverse, travelling through different planes and doing his best to help the populace no matter how small or big a gesture he made.

He has recently found himself on Innistrad, where his dogmas are being questioned by the very existence of beings called werewolves and vampires. How can these creatures find salvation in life, when even after being whipped clean of their memories, their animal side compels them to sin again?

Is death the only salvation he can offer?

Abilities: Gibrael is one with the Elemental and can call out its form, transforming into pure energy capable of salvation through healing or cleansing. He does not do this often, but in this stage, he can call out the “Dawn” magic that transforms all mana it contacts to white mana, making him stronger and his enemies unable to rely on their own colours for their magic.

Dawn of a New Life/Mind Cleanse: This is not trickery of mental manipulation the likes blue magic has to offer. No, this is the flooding of the mind and even soul by untainted white mana. It washes away all that is impure, even memories, leaving only values and beliefs white mana respects. Gibrael views this as a second birth and a baptism all at the same time, where an individual is re-born to a new life wiped away from former sin.

Imposing Light: His domain: Light. He manipulates it, not to create illusions or to fool others, but to overpower them. This light is charged with his very own beliefs: his dogma. Very few are the creatures that can withstand the urge to bow to their knees and ask for atonement when Gibrael unleashes this spell and literally brings about a new Dawn as he becomes the beacon for his notion of salvation. The unholy creatures that dot the plane of Innistrad are particularly averse to it, many being purged of whatever magics caused them to walk from the grave in the first place and disassembling on the ground, making this his greatest ally when in combat with such abominations.

Merciful Judgement: The Dawn Elemental was an immortal being immune to any injury. Gibrael was a cleric working to heal what he came across: be it injury of the body, or a wound of the soul. Healing is Gibrael’s speciality, and he is so good at it that many a rumour have sprouted saying that, underneath the white shimmering robes lies nothing but pure mana, so that the man cannot be injured by weapon or draw blood. When healing others, Gibrael has a habit of making them feel his own dogma approaching their soul and slowly enlighten them (many would call this brainwashing, though Gibrael himself refuses to go that far.) Many are the wounded and sick that enter his tent looking for healing and leave with new found wisdom.

Astral Steel: Gibrael refuses to fight to the death, but sometimes physical punishment is a just sentence before salvation. Not to mention that his Mind Cleanse spell works best on a dying target (it is at this stage people are at their most receptive for his so called salvation. Who would not accept a new life as they experience their death?) So he has learned to fashion his belief into steel which he can temper and shape to his liking. Be it shield, spear or whatever convenient object, this spell can materialize it. On Innistrad, this spell has found itself being used far too often for Gibrael’s liking.

Equipment: Robes of the White Dawn: A Dawn Elemental’s living essence repurposed as fabric. These robes absorb White Mana from wherever it can find it, then stores it and purifies it further. This pure White Mana is the perfect tool for Gibrael: his dogma can be easily weaved into it. It also bestows Gibrael the ability of flight. Just like the Elemental’s essence took the form of a robe, Gibrael speculates he could easily render it into an armour and enchant it with the powers of light and purity, though the need for that has never risen.

Appearance: As a warrior who has known many harsh battles both on his home world and in many other planes, Rimuel has been hardened by the experiences. He is muscular and slender, with short-cut silver-white hair and piercing, cold grey eyes. Like most Mirran humans, he has plates and growths of metal as part of his body, in his case this takes the form of natural plates on his shoulders, forearms and shins, as well as two spikes which grow to either side of his spine at the level of his neck. Being of the Auriok, these metal plates are golden in shade, while his skin is a bronzed color.

Like most of the Auriok, Rimuel prefers to wear loose clothing, in his case a white tunic and leggings. However, as a warrior he supplements his natural metal plates with steel armor which covers his torso, head and thighs, leaving him as well-armored as most soldiers. At his belt are sheathes for his swords and pouches for various useful things he might acquire on his travels.

Personality: A grim and humorless individual most of the time, Rimuel is not one for smiles and laughter. If he ever did enjoy himself, it was at a time when his home was not ruled by the Phyrexians and most of those he knew were either dead or suffering a much worse fate. His ideals and ethics have been shaped by the hell he watched Mirrodin become. The weak are a dangerous liability in his eyes, and a risk to those who fight beside them. While once he might have considered anyone worth the help of the community, having seen the horror of Phyrexia and endured a nightmarish battle against the invaders, Rimuel now believes that only those who can help themselves deserve to belong.

While he still believes in the value of community and teamwork, Rimuel is caught at a point between the ideals of red and white. While upholding the ideal of community, he also has come to believe that it is up to the individual to prove their worth to society and in doing so earn their place. As such he is disdainful of those who sees as having not proven themselves, and will often simply tell them to help themselves. That said, in battle, he will not deny his allies help if they require it, believing the act of taking arms and joining battle enough to prove one's worth in itself.

As might be expected, Rimuel despises the Phyrexians, and the merest mention of them will noticably sour his mood. His greatest desire is to see New Phyrexia purged and Mirrodin restored to its former glory, and to this end, he seeks to gather the forces of the multiverse to destroy the abominations which now rule his beloved home. However, he is zealous and single-minded about this to the point he has a tendency to ignore the problems of others, forever citing the threat New Phyrexia might pose to the multiverse. Due to his hate and paranoia, Rimuel will often burn the dead to ash, leaving no resource for Phyrexia to benefit from. This is a habit maintained from his battles on Mirrodin against the Phyrexians.

History: Born on Mirrodin shortly after the end of Memnarch's mad reign over the plane, Rimuel was raised among the Auriok as a soldier and protector of the nomadic people. He took to his training well, and though he was to remain one of many among the Auriok ranks, he was content. He learned to fight against the many enemies of people, from the nim and the Moriok to the various feral artifact creatures wandering the Razor Fields.

However, his relatively blissful life was soon brought to an end by the rise of New Phyrexia. As the invaders slowly corrupted Mirrodin and compleated its inhabitants, Rimuel, like his fellows, fought back. Often using guerilla warfare to try and outmanuveur the enemy, they fought many skirmishes with the nightmarish Phyrexians, their numbers dwindling with each passing week as the Mirran rebels were killed or captured. Eventually one of the group's camps was discovered, and a last stand against Phyrexia was fought by the Auriok warrior and his allies. They fought to the last, but ultimately Rimuel was the only one left standing. Enraged by the deaths of his allies and the horror awaiting him if he were captured, he resolved to go down in a blaze of glory, killing as many Phyrexians as he could. However, as he made his last charge against the massed enemy, his Planeswalker spark ignited from his sheer hate and resolve. Ascended, the reborn Planeswalker tapped into the white and red mana of Mirrodin and with his newfound power he slaughtered the force opposing him, reducing their corpses to ash to prevent Phyrexia from reclaiming its lost assets.

Grim and bitter over how the resistance had failed, Rimuel vanished into the multiverse, instinctively walking through the planes and coming to Alara. In the reforged plane, he found himself on Naya. Confused by the strange new plane, he fought against the various predators who came from the wilderness, until finally he was confronted by a leonin. Though he knew the race, having met many while on Mirrodin, this one appeared different to any he knew. He lacked the metal common to Mirrodin's native species. After a brief exchange of heated words, Rimuel was informed he was on the plane of Alara, and was offered hospitality by the leonin, who wished to learn more of this strange new arrival. Accepting, Rimuel was taken to a leonin village, and told his guide of Mirrodin and how the Phyrexians had invaded. Though sympathetic, if confused, the leonin informed the Planeswalker that Alara had its own problems also, due to the Conflux reforging the plane from its five shards.

Disappointed, Rimuel planeswalked away from Alara, and continued to travel the multiverse. Kamigawa, Lorwyn, Innistrad... he travelled many planes and met many people, telling them of what Mirrodin had become and asking for their help, but always he was told they could not traverse between planes as he could. Finally, he resolved to find a way to open the pathways between worlds to those who did not hold the spark of a Planeswalker, and began a quest in search of a spell or device to allow this. In this time he also honed his skills, fighting monstrosities and foes across the planes, vampires and werewolves on Innistrad, dark fae on Shadowmoor, the darker guilds of Ravnica. All of this was in preparation for one day, the day when he would return to Mirrodin at the head of an army assembled from many worlds, and finally purge the Phyrexians from his home.

Abilities: Since ascending to become a Planeswalker, Rimuel has learned to manipulate red and white mana in destructive ways, usually based around the ideal of cleansing. He can summon gouts of fire to consume his enemies, cast lightning from his hands to electrify them, and unleash burning white light to cleanse unholy entities such as demons and vampires. Though he knows some arts of healing, Rimuel's prowess with mana is very much focused on the destruction of his enemy.

Equipment:Whispersilk Cloak An artifact acquired on Rimuel's travels, while worn, this lightweight cloak renders him invisible. As such, Rimuel often employs it when stealth is required for his mission. However, he can still be touched, and the cloak does not render him undetectable by magical means.

Bladed Pinions An artifact recovered from his home some time before he awakened his spark, these golden metal wings allow Rimuel to gain the power of flight. However, they only work for about two hours at a time, and require three hours to 'recharge' before they can be used again after that.

Accorder's Shield A medium-sized rectangular shield of standard issue to Auriok soldiers on Mirrodin. The shield itself is relatively mundane, except it is polished to a mirrored finish, allowing Rimuel to use it to look around obstacles without exposing himself to danger.

Name: Tsukiko Yuu “superior child of the moon”Age: 32Gender: FemaleSpecies: Soratami (Moonfolk)Class: Wizard (Geistmancer to be specific)Color(s): Blue/ RedAppearance: Unlike the common Soratami who are women with few, barely recognizable rabbit traits, Yuu comes from a particular clan where the animal characteristics of the rabbit are stronger than the human traits. While her body is clearly anthropomorphic, she is covered in soft, fluffy white fur. Her face has sharp, narrowed human eyes and a petite human mouth, but her little nose is that of a rabbit, flat and black, like a little dot on her face, and she has a habit of perking her nostrils every now and again much like the cute little creatures do. Her hair is long and the same colour as her fur and seems to be constantly flowing like if being hit by a gust of wind even if she is indoors. Two long rabbit ears poke out of from each side of her head and descend down to her chest, where a silk ribbon links both and forms a beautiful knot over her bosom.

Though her clan’s fur is by tradition pure white, she is one of the rare exception to have streaked skin. In her case, red patches which began to manifest the more in touch with her red side she became.

Her usual attire is a traditional “shozoku” (ninja-garb) dyed deep crimson. It is a stark contrast with her white fur and does little to conceal her presence, but that is just to her liking: deceit and the constant avoidance of face-to-face confrontation was the one thing that made her want to leave her tribe in the first place.

Personality: If there is one defining trait of Yuu’s, it’s her tendency to overachieve. She not only aims for the highest of all possible rewards or benefits she could get from doing something, she is unable to comprehend some people’s tendency to do simple things with no benefit. Reading a book? Surely you wish to learn of your enemies weakness! Going on a trip? You intend to return stronger than ever and enslave those who crossed you on your past! Nothing short of planar domination is on her mind at this moment, though her mind is quite the fickle thing.

The more in tune with her Red aspect she became, the more impulsive, irrational and rebellious she grew. While originally she was, like all Soratami, much more willing to plot a war from start to finish down to the tiniest of details before it even started, now she just wings it or decides to change up her plan halfway through the battle simply because of her mood. And she is very moody: that is most likely the reason she has yet to conquer any plane she’s ever visited; she either gets bored of it a week after being there, or she decides to kill all the villagers she intended to enslave. And after all, what’s a ruler without slaves? Surely nothing. She’d not even have anyone to build her castle.

Yuu is also deeply egocentric and tends to consider herself superior to every living – and unliving – thing she comes across, often making her seem detached as she doesn’t even give her company the pleasure of her attention. If this is the extent of what happens, however, consider yourself blessed by the God of Luck and Life: she will burn you alive and make you one of her dead minions with no remorse whatsoever. And just remember, on Innistrad (where she learnt most of her magic from,) death is just a career change: being her flame geist means torturing and being tortured with your final destiny potentially being becoming the power source for her new spell.

History: Yuu was born among a particularly deceitful clan of Soratami. Her clan, like all Soratami, secluded itself away from all other creatures, but it never lost track of what happened on the earth. Wielding powerful illusion magic, they always kept one agent on the ground among the other tribes, and achieved their interests be them political, military, academic or economical, through sabotage, blackmail or even assassination.

Her clan, her life, was all about deceit and lies. But Yuu seemed to be the only one remotely troubled by it. Unlike her sisters, who were more than happy weaving illusions, twisting reality and hiding behind false truths, Yuu craved something real. Her clan was powerful and she always grew knowing it, but the more she saw and experienced the more she felt it was ill gained.

She wanted to change it. One day she confronted the clan’s matron and, after a heated debate (that quickly derailed into Yuu spewing insults and accusations at her elder) the elder simply stated that “true power is not that which you believe it to be.”

How did she dare? She hid behind lies and illusions and yet she claimed to be the one holding the true notion of power? She was wrong, and Yuu would prove it. She challenged the elder to a fight and, before the old woman could refuse or spawn a wall of deceit to protect her, Yuu blasted her with a powerful wave of red mana. This was the first time she channelled this colour, and immediately she fell in love with the powerful burst of emotion – a passion for combat and thoughtless destruction – she felt take over her being. This was also the first time red patches stained her white fur.

After the initial blast of red magic overtook her, the elder’s clothes set on fire. The initial surprise that one of her children had channelled a colour traditionally deemed as an “enemy alignment” added on to her staggered state, and she succumbed before she could weave a single spell, engulfed by near infinite blasts of fire.

After she was able to calm down, Yuu realized what she had done. She had murdered her clan elder, her matriarch, out of a whim… And yet she was not upset. Or rather, this new feeling of power that was born in her during this fight nulled any feeling of mourning weighting her heart. Furthermore, she proved her elder she was right: her own power defeated experienced illusion magic. She showed her own clan they were wrong!

That was how it all started. After that day she continued her experiments with red magic; with each spell she cast, the deeper grew her passion for this magic. She continued training herself and growing stronger, both due to her own desire to grow stronger and because when she ran from her cloud-top home, after killing her matriarch, she decided further humiliation was needed and stole one of her clan’s most precious possessions: the legendary treasure, Tatsumasa, the Dragon’s Fang. The problem was that these two blasphemies led to the unleashing of the Patron of the Moon, the soratami ruling deity.

When she was finally found by the Patron she deemed it was time to fight rather than flight, even if she was going to be up against a God. The Patron’s powerful magic nullified all of the illusions she spew (much to her dismay, the status as a high ranking kami made her pull out all the stops) and it easily withstood the red magic she cast.

Feeling rather poetic, she thought it a good idea to channel all her remaining mana on the blade and go for one final blow: what she did not expect was her planeswalker spark igniting at the moment the Dragon Spirit was released from within the blade. The Dragon absorbed Yuu’s natural pyromancer talent and became part Red and Blue. With a combination of two colours, this spirit was able to take down the high ranking Kami.

With her new powers, Yuu planeswalked to several planes. Among them was Innistrad, the dark plane she found herself returning to the most. In this plane the very nature of spirits and “geist” magic appealed to her. She found herself studying flamegeists and, after much practice, she discovered she could make her Blue illusions turn into real objects by flooding them with Red mana and turning them into living flames, a mix between a flame geist and an Elemental, and with remarkable ease.

Abilities:
Being a Soratami, she is capable of effortless flight. Her most characteristic ability is the power to form a veritable army of red beings of pure energy, a mixture of illusions, elemental creations and flamegeists. When she fights, the first thing her opponents see is a red, blood like mist coating the area followed by innumerable fiery creations taking form inside it.

If she is feeling like it, she may create a dragon of flames itself, or fight you with her legendary sword, though this is arguably rare for her. Still, she is moody, temperamental and unpredictable, so never be too sure of her attack pattern, and never be foolish enough to think you can guess her next move.

Appearance:
As a young man with moderate exercise, Thamien doesn’t have very strong a build. He’s rather tall and lanky, slightly pale from a lack of regular sunlight. His face is not as delicate as your average Elf, taking on the stronger features of a Human. The only features that carry over from his father’s side are his silvery blue eyes and his tapered off ears. His short auburn hair comes from his mother’s side.

Along his chest and back are long scars from the beatings he received during his magic training as a child. Thamien has since attempted to mask those scars with carvings into his chest and back made from diluted Moonglove extract in intricate tribal patterns out of his respect for the Elven tribes of Lorwyn. His work with the highly corrosive poison has also caused severe burn scarring on his fingertips, burning off all ten of his fingernails permanently. He mostly wears white cotton gloves to hide the scars on his hands, but he's also willing to use them as tools of intimidation in a last ditch attempt to avoid a fight.

Thamien comes dressed to the nines in a blue, three-piece silken suit, something not often seen in the ‘less civilized’ planes. He does not like getting his suit dirty, and will often remove it in a long fight. On his head, he wears a blue velvet fedora, with two slits cut into it for his ears.

Personality:
Thamien Holimion has developed a reputation for his ruthlessness. To him, victory comes to the last man standing and any tactics (clean or otherwise) to achieve the goal of survival are viable. He’s almost inhumanly calm and collected, even in dangerous situations. He likes to crack wise, and being as well versed in planar lore as he is, he has a wide arsenal of humor to draw from. He’s a loner, only drawing strength from other when it benefits himself directly. He doesn’t despise any species or organization as he never knows if and when they might offer him work. This mentality has earned him friends in high places whom he can call favors from if he’s in the area. Of course this mentality has also made him a great deal of enemies who will stop at nothing to see him dead.

In battle, Thamien sneaks off and waits for the perfect chance. He strikes only when he knows he has a distinct advantage. He is an opportunist, using any weapon in his arsenal or his environment to turn the battle to his favor.

Thamien is uneasy in large groups. Even from his childhood he’s only been accustomed to a small number of people being around him at any given time. He’s also surprisingly non-combative when he’s off the clock, diffusing any quarrel against himself and others as best he can. He can’t stand anyone who bears a grudge. To him, war is just people getting paid to kill other people, and once you’re not getting paid it’s just not worth it to keep fighting.

History:
Thamien was born on a small industrialized plane known as Cooperville to an Elven father and a Human mother. His father, Datiri Holimion was at the time the head of the Holimion crime syndicate and as such Thamien sat in the lab of luxury his first years of life. He never really saw much of his father, and when he did Datiri was quick to hide his more sinister activities from him. Most of his childhood was spent with his mother and the servants of Holimion manor.

On the day of his fourth birthday, his life changed forever. Unbeknownst to Thamien, his father had run afoul of the local Thallid tribes by assassinating several tribal leaders, upsetting the most powerful of them, the ancient extra-planar Mother Thallid. While Thamien and his mother were celebrating at the family lake house, Mother Thallid sent some of her undead servants to kill them as a message to Datiri. The attack was swift and brutal; many of the Holimion family servants were killed. Thamien, unable to process what was happening began to cry. As his mother cradled him, trying to shield him from the inevitable barrage of bullets, a latent power activated inside of Thamien. Mother Thallid herself appeared to lay the final blow, but she stopped when she sensed something within the young boy. A Planeswalker’s spark was activating for the first time. Within moments, Thamien was gone.

He awoke to a strange sight. A massive forest had sprawled out in all directions, with random octahedrons dotting the landscape. Immediately, he began to cry out for his mother. In his fear, he didn’t even realize that his screaming would draw out unsavory characters. Without realizing it, a large beast had emerged from the trees with its intent to make him an early snack. Before he could be eaten however, he was rescued. A young woman dropped down from the forest canopy and drove the beast away. While this strange boy was at first met with scorn, she realized that this plane was not his own. The woman introduced herself as Nissa Rivane, gave him a basic lesson in Planeswalking and guided him on his way home, only to disappear back into the Blind Infinities. The boy returned home only to find that Mother Thallid had made a deal with his father to ensure his own survival.

Over the next few years, Mother Thallid trained the boy to use his powers in exchange for favors running items between planes. She also taught him necromancy, a skill that would serve him well later in life. Mother Thallid’s training was harsh and he would be severely beaten and the horrendous acts his father committed were revealed with each failure. Her cruelty continued until Thamien spited Datiri with each breath. At that point, her true ambitions made themselves known.

At the age of nine, Thamien was sent to the plane of Lorwyn to gather Moonglove. There he met the Elves of Gilt-Leaf, whom after he commended them on their beauty was taught the secret of extracting the poison from the flower. Upon his return, Mother Thallid returned his to the care of his parents. He waited patiently for six months to execute his plan, but at the Summer’s End Ball his father puts on every year he found his chance. Putting on the cute child routine, he distracted the cooks while he dropped Moonglove extract on the plates of food meant for his father and each of his advisors. That night, Datiri Holmion and half of the highest ranking members of the Holimion crime syndicate died, their cause of death was never identified. As such, Thamien, being named the next in line was declared head of the family. To add insult to injury, Thamien revived Datiri’s corpse which became Thamien’s public face. In her grief, his mother attempted to take her own life, leading to her confinement at St. Anabel’s Institution for the Mentally Ill. Mother Thallid’s revenge was complete, not only was Datiri Holimion dead, but she got his son to do the deed.

As head of the Holimion syndicate, Thamien continued to use his Planeswalking abilities to give the gang an unhealthy advantage over its competitors. He learned biomancy from the remnants of the Simic guild of Ravnica, gaining the use of cytoplasts. He also continued his necromancy lessons with Golgari remnants, combining both magic schools into something completely his own. By the age of eighteen, he reorganized the Holimion family into the most powerful of the Elven syndicates on Cooperville. Through all this time however, he grew bored of life in Cooperville and set his sights on planes beyond. The first task he set out on free from Mother Thallid and the expectations of the Holimion syndicate was to expand his reputation. From then on, he offered his services to the highest bidder, whether to retrieve rare artifacts, act as a go-between between planes, or eliminate targets that pose a threat. Despite this, he declares allegiance to no one organization, opting instead to remain neutral to any planar conflict.

In recent months, he’s heard rumors of Planeswalkers disappearing without a trace. He’s rushed to Zendikar to warn the first Planeswalker he ever met, only to find her gone and the monstrous Eldrazi in her place. He has chosen to hire himself for the job of locating Nissa, repaying the favor she gave him by helping him home as a child, and investigating the rumors.

Abilities: Thamien uses a self-developed magic style he refers to as Corpomancy, the magic of the body. Using Necromancy to break down dead flesh and biomancy to reform the material, Thamien has access to magic that can change to suit his needs. He can either form augmentations to his body or reform the matter into Oozes or Zombies that follow his orders.

Equipment: Moonglove-laced Switchblades – Access to the plane of Lorwyn has given Thamien use of the Moonglove plant and its potent poison. The blade has a spring loaded mechanism that injects Moonglove Extract into the wound if the blade is removed improperly. Mainly used as throwing knives.Deathrender - An elegant blade that he uses to aid in his necromancy.

Plane From: Cooperville, a small city-plane whose development is equivalent to 1930’s Chicago. See plane description in post below.

I use "uber" Pokemon in allotted tiers, I calculate stat values, I draw the line at cheating devices, I breed my way to perfection, and I care about natures. I breed my Pokemon out of the most ideal parental stock, and treat them like brainless drones made out of bits of data. I believe that thinking of them as anything more is pointless.

@Gentleman Skeleton: A couple things keep this in the pending category.

First, and most importantly, I'm going to need a LOT more on his Plane. If you're making up an entire world, society, and history from scratch, I'm going to need it. It's not enough to say 1930s Chicago, because 1930s Chicago did not begin as 1930s Chicago. There's several hundred years of American History that led to that point, to say nothing of the Native American History that preceded it.

Second, I have to ask you to nix the Sword of B&M, since from the symbol on the card, it's a Mirran weapon. And (more importantly) it and the other swords will play a larger role later on in the RPG.

Third, I'm unsure about the use of guns, even simple simple ones (to say nothing of a tommy gun). In the MTG worlds, it's just a little bit...off, or broken.

Also, do you really think Bolas would just hire him out for assassination jobs? Someone as manipulative as that dragon wouldn't leave such a free-ranging loose end. But that's a minor detail that I can overlook.

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

@Gentleman Skeleton: A couple things keep this in the pending category.

First, and most importantly, I'm going to need a LOT more on his Plane. If you're making up an entire world, society, and history from scratch, I'm going to need it. It's not enough to say 1930s Chicago, because 1930s Chicago did not begin as 1930s Chicago. There's several hundred years of American History that led to that point, to say nothing of the Native American History that preceded it.

Second, I have to ask you to nix the Sword of B&M, since from the symbol on the card, it's a Mirran weapon. And (more importantly) it and the other swords will play a larger role later on in the RPG.

Third, I'm unsure about the use of guns, even simple simple ones (to say nothing of a tommy gun). In the MTG worlds, it's just a little bit...off, or broken.

Also, do you really think Bolas would just hire him out for assassination jobs? Someone as manipulative as that dragon wouldn't leave such a free-ranging loose end. But that's a minor detail that I can overlook.

Done and done. I'll just keep the gun in Cooperville should he ever have to return home.

EDIT: One Plane description coming up: Spoiler:- Cooperville:

Cooperville, a plane caught in the whirlwind of technological development. How is all this progress possible? The President of the city-plane has banned all magic.

Cooperville was once a plane rich in mana, a land where magic was in perfect harmony with technology…and then the Great Prohibition took all that away. Assuming the path to greatness was in the development of greater technology, President Henry Cooper has rendered the use of magic a crime. While most were satisfied with this decision, many were unwilling to give up their livelihood. As such, an underground movement began to keep magic alive.

Of course, magic requires research in order to keep itself going. Artifacts have to be discovered, secrets have to be delved into. Knowing this, an intricate supply chain was developed. But as the magic-users grew more powerful, so too did the Central Government who decided to fight fire with fire. As impromptu marketplaces sprung up, they were violently shaken back down by Cooper’s anti-mages, who use mana in frighteningly destructive weapons. Such began the arms race that is tearing the plane apart and taking innocent lives with it. Five factions formed, tenuous alliances were forged. This conflict is happening at a dangerous time while the true threat to the plane is rearing its ugly head, something with the power to consume the souls of every resident of the city. These five factions must now find common ground to defeat a common foe.

The Empty Shadow - (White, Black and Red) – A frightening cult composed of living slaves and unliving masters. Based upon the belief that the living owe a debt to the dead, Human and Goblin slaves are forced into the depths underneath the city to unearth powerful magical artifacts. These artifacts are then sold to those who can convert them into raw magical power. Upon the death of these slaves, their Spirits are ascended to the role of masters.
Races: Human, Goblin, Loxodon, Spirit

The Weapon-Masters – (Blue, Red and Green) – Lead by the wise old Vedalken Arturus, the Weapon-Masters are able to take the raw magical material provided by the Empty Shadow and forge them into powerful magical weapons. Of course, they remain the most neutral force on the plane, willing to sell their wares to government and renegade alike.
Races: Vedalken, Goblin, Human, Rhox

Mother Thallid – (Black, Green and White) – Mother Thallid, a former human infested with the spores of an extra-planar Fungal organism. She has control over a legion of undead soldiers through the use of her spores and potent necromancy. Her forces serve as bodyguards to the most powerful members of each of the renegade factions. She’s also responsible for disposing of those who pose a threat to the order of the plane, often adding the victims of these culls to her legion.
Races: Fungus, Zombie, Treefolk, Dark Elves

Central Government – (Red, White and Blue) – The organization responsible for maintaining law and order in Cooperville, but has instead opted to violently crack down on illegal magic users. Their research into mana draining anti-magic (Weapons that draw in and store massive amounts of mana, releasing it in enormous blasts. Can be made into bombs or guns.) is drying up the natural mana leaking throughout the world. They have also begun the process of sealing the world off from Planeswalkers, making extra-planar intervention difficult.
Races: Humans, Goblins, Aven, Loxodon

The Elven Families – (Green, Blue and Black) – The brokers of magical artifacts, the Elven Mob tightly controls the flow of refined mana throughout the plane. They are divided into three families, mostly along color lines. These families are the Green mana aligned Wood Elves (Traditional MtG Elves,) headed by the Holimion family; the Blue mana aligned High Elves (city dwelling Elves with more human-like features,) headed by the Liadon family; and the Black aligned Dark Elves (Elves with ashen pale skin, often adorned with tribal patterned tattoos,) headed by the Nailo family. The Planeswalker Thamien Holimion recently solidified the families under one banner before he disappeared without a trace. What has become of them in the six years he’s been away?
Races: Elves, Rhox, Loxodon, Aven

I use "uber" Pokemon in allotted tiers, I calculate stat values, I draw the line at cheating devices, I breed my way to perfection, and I care about natures. I breed my Pokemon out of the most ideal parental stock, and treat them like brainless drones made out of bits of data. I believe that thinking of them as anything more is pointless.

Right, but it doesn't exactly work like that. The closest canon plane I can compare this to is Ravnica. Ravnica was not always Ravnica. There was a history there, it wasn't always a huge city with the guilds being (sort of) at peace with one another. There was war and conflict, which eventually necessitated the Guildpact. So what I'm looking for in the plane description is what that relevant history is. Why outlaw magic? What catalyzed the separation into the 5 groups? Why those colors? Where do the regular people fit into all this? etc. That's the kind of world-building I'd need for an original plane.

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Alright, provided a basic rundown of the plane of Cooperville. Bear in mind, it's based off of what Thamien would know of his home. He hasn't been there in six years, so major changes might have happened to upset the status quo without his knowledge.

I use "uber" Pokemon in allotted tiers, I calculate stat values, I draw the line at cheating devices, I breed my way to perfection, and I care about natures. I breed my Pokemon out of the most ideal parental stock, and treat them like brainless drones made out of bits of data. I believe that thinking of them as anything more is pointless.

I really want to pressure the idea that everyone who plans on signing up to please do so by this weekend. You've had essentially 2 weeks to get your signup together, I think that's plenty of time, even with life-constraints, and I want to start this before interest in it dies down.

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Appearance: Lithe and atheletic, Morgana is a woman of cold beauty. Her features are sharp and rough, hardened by years of battle and training. Her eyes are an icy dark blue, while her pale blonde hair is cut short to shoulder-length, and a thin scar runs diagonally across her right cheek. Her figure is petite, to the point that if her hair were cut shorter, she could fairly easily pass for a young man. Indeed, people sometimes have some difficulty identifying her gender, something which irritates her to a degree.

Usually, Morgana is dressed in the armor of a knight of Bant. She is clad in plates of shining steel, usually over a dark grey tunic and leggings, as well as dark leather boots and gloves. She completes the armor with a plain helmet which conceals her face from view. When not clad in her armor, she will often simply wear her tunic and leggings, sometimes completing her attire with a black traveling cloak with a hood.

Personality: Quiet and harsh, Morgana refuses to suffer fools or heroes. She despises gloryhounds and preachers, especially those who would speak of giving their lives for some abstract ideal. In her view, the only cause worth one's life is the cause of protecting home and hearth. As such, religion and other expressions of faith are things she does not understand. The way Morgana sees it, one should devote themselves to the community, giving everything to further and protect it, regardless of what the law might say or what moral misgivings might plague them. In this way, Morgana represents the twisted union of Black and White ideals. In upholding White ideals of protecting the community and one's allies, she is willing to do anything to achieve the victory which will protect these things. She will sacrifice the few to save the many, break every rule of war, even resort to calling on the powers of the darkest and most debased aspects of the multiverse to destroy her foe. She is a knight without a lord, because her lord is herself.

That said, Morgana may be cold and cunning, but she is not heartless. She despises notions of caste systems and social hierarchy which limit the potential of people, believing such things only shackle people to set positions in society based on their birth, not their individual merits. She also refuses to target the wounded or civilians, reserving her strategic prowess for warriors alone. However, due to her coldness, Morgana shows little interest in forming relationships with people. She will simply drift into a place, fulfill her aims there, and leave, barely letting the population of the area notice her. This is part of her inherent ruthlessness, it is much harder to sacrifice those you have bonded with, even for the worthiest cause.

History: Born the daughter of a high-ranking noble of Bant, Morgana was raised as a squire, destined to become a knight. She trained with the sword and the lance, becoming more and more skilled as the years passed, until she was finally ready to charge into battle with the other knights, including her childhood sweetheart, Morgan of the Sable Sword. Unfortunately, just as she became a true knight, the Conflux occured. Alara was reforged from its separate shards, and the inhabitants of the other shards poured into each other. A force of Grixis zombies and demons marched for Bant, rampaging across the land, and Morgana was sent with the force chosen to defeat the horrors.

The battle seemed fair enough. The field was relatively open, the forces of Grixis open for a devastating charge from the Bantian knights. However, the glory-hungry squires charged the demonic warlord leading the enemy, allowing the zombies and other mainline troops to flank them. Robbed of their movement advantage, the knights were dragged down and slain by the endless enemy, until finally only Morgana and Morgan were left. Eyes full of tears and her heart full of horror and rage, the young knight resolved to die fighting at Morgan's side, though she bitterly cursed the Sigils of Bant for causing such a catastrophic event. Desperate to try and save Morgana, Morgan rushed into battle first, but was swiftly cleaved in twain by a monstrous demon. Watching him die in a single moment, Morgana lost control, anger and bitterness mixing with grief and heartbreak. The mealstrom of terror, loss and fury unleashed her Planeswalker spark. She tapped into not only the vibrant white mana of her homeland, but the cold blue mana of Esper, and the shadowy, vile black mana of Grixis. Consumed in her new power, Morgana unleashed it. Arcs of annihilating light mixed with blades of shadow, tearing the foe asunder as the knight took her blade and cleaved through every rotted zombie shambling towards her, finally slaying the demon leader of the Grixis force. As reinforcements arrived from Bant, the young Planeswalker glared them all in the face and denounced the Sigils for leading the young knights of Bant to reckless heroism. Consumed by her passion and the exhaustion of the battle, she retreated into the multiverse, ultimately arriving in Ravnica.

In the City of Guilds, she collapsed, overcome by the wounds of battle and the effort of unleashing her power. She was found by a regular citizen and taken to the healers of the Simic Combine, who worked to heal the knight, while also clandestinely implanting several cytoplasts onto her as part of an experiment. However, upon recovering fully from her injuries and realizing what had happened after conversing with a senior doctor of the Combine who knew the tales of the Planeswalkers, Morgana retrieved her equipment and left Ravnica. She arrived in Zendikar, and on the hellish, chaotic plain, she discovered what the Simic Combine had done to her. She had gained enhanced strength, speed and reflexes, letting her fight on a higher level than most humans could. Relishing in her new power, she fought monsters and explored Zendikar's expanses, collecting several artifacts of use, while also utilizing the strange, wild mana of the plane to develop her magical abilities. At this time, she came across a small settlement of humans threatened by a wild clan of vampires. Intrigued by how the warriors of the settlement attempted to fight the vampires despite clearly being outclassed, she decided to join their ranks. The battle which followed turned vastly in favor of the humans, Morgana's superior physical ability and magical prowess allowing her to devastate the vampires, even letting her fight the clan's leader to a standstill before her allies intervened.

Even though she was praised and hailed as a savior, Morgana simply departed the next morning, and left Zendikar. She came to Innistrad, only to discover a plain wracked by terror. Werewolves and vampires stalked the night, hunting humans, and the settlement she arrived near fought a savage pack of werewolves. Once more, intrigued by human tenacity, Morgana joined the defenders. However, as they fought the werewolves, several of the soldiers she fought beside turned, becoming predatory nightmares and cutting down their allies. Finding herself outclassed by the werewolves, Morgana was left with a decision, try to save those she could by manipulating her allies to attack the werewolves and leave openings she could exploit, or attempt to flee, leaving all the humans to their deaths. At this moment, her resolve kicked in, and she made her choice. Deliberately ordering her allies into positions where they would be butchered, but would distract the werewolves, she proceeded to use the element of surprise to finish off the enemy. However, it came at the cost of her allies. Enraged by her betrayal, the grieving survivors chased Morgana from the town, leaving her to wander away from the battlefield.

Angered, Morgana came to a new resolution, even if she had to be despised to do it, she would do whatever was necessary to protect those she believed worthy of her protection. She began to delve into darker and more destructive arts on several different planes, learning to obliterate her enemies and use misdirection and trickery. She learned the darker aspects of blue mana also, the powers to break minds and shatter memories. And she continued her quest, travelling the multiverse, finding those she believed worthy of protection, and betraying them to her ruthless ideals.

Abilities: Due to the Simic Combine's cytoplast implants, Morgana is stronger, faster and reacts more quickly then the average human, almost supernaturally so.

Equipment:Blade of the Bloodchief: A double-bladed sword taken from the leader of the vampire clan Morgana slew on Zendikar, this cursed weapon drinks in the deaths of others and gives Morgana greater strength as more deaths occur. However, this boost in strength lasts only for a few minutes after the death, and only drinks in the deaths of those within roughly twenty feet of Morgana. Due to her strength and dexterity, Morgana can wield the Blade in one hand.

Trepanation Blade: A strange blade from Innistrad, Morgana wields this sword as a backup weapon, sometimes using it in tandem with the Blade of the Bloodchief if the battle requires a twin-blade style. However, it is usually impractical, as the Trepanation Blade is designed only for stabbing.

Sigil of Distinction: Earned for her feat of routing the Grixis army when she became a Planeswalker, Morgana holds onto this Sigil only because she cannot bring herself to throw aside this one last memory of her home, and of how she avenged Morgan's death.

Kite Shield: A battered and weathered shield bearing a symbol of Bant. Morgana doesn't often use her shield, but sometimes finds it a useful defense in battle.

I'm hoping to start this up on Monday or Tuesday...Something like that. Hopefully I'll get the time to finish up my post. I've started it, but it's been a busy few days. Either way, you're all free to get a head start on your own, too, if you want. Like I said in the first post, we're going about our usual Planeswalking lives, when we feel a "pull" and follow it towards Dominaria.

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Done with the both of these, sorry it took so long. Like mentioned before, I didn’t know anything about MtG before some research for the rp, but I hope I got everything down right. I took some liberties with the Archon species as there wasn’t much info on them available, but I hope I didn’t go overboard or contradict the canon or anything. I also made the assumption that Archons live longer than humans, so I put his age down accordingly.

Spoiler:- Thayshia the Faerie:

Name: Thayshia WaverwingAge: 10 (24 in human years and in appearance)Gender: FemaleSpecies: FaerieClass: ShamanColor(s): Red/Green/BlackAppearance: Sketched her to help visualize her. Forgive the anime-esque look, I know it doesn’t fit the setting, but my drawing style’s just such.

You could say Thayshia much resembles a regular human girl, just shrunken to the approximate size of a small pigeon. She barely reaches a full foot in height and as one would expect, has absolutely no arm strength to speak of. Her body is fragile and petite from her long, slim fingers all the way to her bare feet and to her slightly pointed ears. Yet despite her frailness, there are some things that make it clear she has seen battle, thanks to the harsh environment she grew up in. For example, her skin is neither fair nor pale; it’s bruised here and there, usually a little muddy and tanned. Her eyes are a cold, icy blue and despite her size, their burning stare is easily visible to all that lay eyes on her. Her wings, four small ones sprouting from her back are somewhat tattered, and her flying form doesn’t radiate bright light quite like it used to. Instead there’s a weak, eerie light surrounding her flight, like an ember just about to go out. Each wing is reddish and they resemble those of a butterfly’s. On her head sit two antennae which are extremely sensitive and pulling on them is bound to get you a whack from her staff or a blast of magic to your face.

Her hair is long; so much so it almost exceeds the length of her body, and it’s always tied up in an extremely messy ponytail, held in place with bark and small splinters of wood. Her bangs are pretty long and sometimes get in the way of her vision, especially when her hair is wet and flat. She is very finicky about her hair and absolutely refuses to cut it no matter how much distress it causes her by getting stuck everywhere all the time. Her hair’s color is a dark red.

Her style of clothing is fairly simple, as you’re out of luck if you want to find anything fancy for the Fae in Jund. She often wears makeshift dresses and the like, their source material pieces of clothes from humans. Though even now when the worlds are unified and she can traverse the different planes as a Planeswalker, she still finds it difficult to find good clothes in the midst of it all (not to mention she has no idea how to put on a few of them), so she has settled to wearing what she knows best. Right now she has on a brown, tattered piece of sleeve that acts as a shirt for her; it reaches just above her chest, with some cuts and tears here and there. Another rag acts as her shorts, held in place by vines wrapped around her waistline to form a homebrew belt. Like mentioned, she usually goes barefoot, but when she does need shoes she scrapes off pieces of bark and uses those. She always carries with her a small, oaken staff with a curved end. The bottom of it is pointy and she’s been seen to use it as a poking weapon in extremely desperate situations. Sure, it would never even hope to penetrate clothing much less armor, but it can always be used to poke out a few eyes of unsuspecting enemies. She also has a small pouch for all the money she earns hidden underneath her clothes.

Personality: What Thayshia loses in size, she gains back in attitude. She’s a fiery tempered young woman, and few are the things that will not anger her to at least some extent. She’s hot headed and has some very serious trouble holding her tongue when pissed. If it weren’t for the need to keep calm in order to do business, she’d most likely be yapping away at any stranger that dared give her a look she didn’t like. She’s very bad at following orders or being humble, but through necessity she has learned to (poorly) fake a smile and take revenge more slyly if need be. For example, if someone needing healing insults her, she will still heal him to get the money, but will not guarantee she didn’t inflict the unfortunate customer with a nasty illness while she was at it. She doesn’t do her healing job to help people, and nobody should make the mistake to think that she does. It’s purely business for her; she gets money and fame and sometimes, especially with stronger patients, some energy for herself through her slick use of black magic while using green to heal.

Thayshia is very greedy, especially when it comes to money, but owning other, even immaterial things such as people’s gratitude is also pleasing to her. She takes everything she can get her hands on, even things she doesn’t need. This is partly because she isn’t quite sure what she pursues at the moment; there’s this annoying, impatient feeling with her that wants her to accomplish something great, but she isn’t exactly sure what yet. This isn’t helped by the fact that she’s very impulsive and grows bored incredibly fast, always ditching assignments when they no longer interest her. She says it’s because if she doesn’t feel inspired, she just can’t do it, period. But really, it’s just because she doesn’t even want to try once she’s lost interest. The world is about living in the moment, so why waste it doing something stupid and boring? For the short moments she actually feels inspired and interested in doing something though, she is extremely effective and passionate, throwing herself completely into what she does.

The ways of Jund have rubbed off on her, and so she values power even more than money. She believes the world is all about the survival of the fittest, and so she’s constantly seeking ways to strengthen herself. She believes that everyone should only fend off for themselves, and will not go help anyone in need unless they’re willing to pay good money for it. She doesn’t have much empathy and is prone to insulting people whenever she talks, though more often than not she doesn’t even do it in order to insult; it’s just the only way to talk she knows. She’d be equally rude to her friends if she ever made some. She has a sort of a soft spot for small, helpless creatures, though. Unfortunately enough she’s even meaner than normal to you if she actually likes you, so she often ends up driving all the little creatures far away after but a few sentences. And then you’ll hear in detail how she didn’t want to talk to them anyway.

She can never admit her own mistakes, as she gets easily embarrassed and it’s a feeling she absolutely hates, so she often tries to pin the fault on someone else instead. She’s very pushy and if she wants something she will make sure she gets it. Stubborn to a fault and not wanting to take “no” for an answer, she’s caused headaches to many shopkeepers during her little bargaining sessions.

She admires strong and especially big creatures, forever bitter she had to be born a small Faerie. She’s very sensitive about her height too, and it’s the number one thing that’s bound to make her fly off the handle if mentioned to her. She’s prone to jealousy in other areas as well, and often finds herself disliking beautiful women partly for that reason. The other reason is that she sees them as useless divas who’ve never experienced real life before, but that way of thinking really only stems for her envy as well.

Thayshia abhors being controlled or restricted in any way. She has always been a pursuer or freedom and now that she can planeswalk, even staying on one plane for too long can cause her to become anxious. Her world has expanded so much that not even the wide planes of Zendikar alone can please her anymore. No, she needs to be on the move constantly. She loves adventure and is ready to seize any new opportunity of trying out new things. She's impulsive and often doesn't think before she acts, though this is something she has tried to tone down as well.

History: As Alara had been split into five and each shard was just beginning its evolution towards what it would later be, Jund still housed various creatures. But gradually, as the environment grew ever harsher and the strong destroyed the weak, many Fae, Elves and other physically weak creatures that had been locked in the new world met their end at the hands of the brutal beings that made up the majority of the inhabitants. Eventually the remaining minorities started to come together and create a small, hidden community for themselves in order to survive. And while yes, that did help them for a while, their numbers kept decreasing as years passed by.

Thayshia was born in that very community, some years before the shards were unified back into one. Her birth was a big event, as it had been a while since any new life had been born among the minorities in hiding. It was clear from the very start however, that unlike many of the others, red mana was strong in her, the very same red that flowed through the mountains she was born in. It was the most prominent color in her, and that was very clear especially in her demeanor and the way she could create small fires when angry.

She was advised never to leave the safe haven they had built for themselves. The eldest and strongest would be the ones to venture out to gather food, but youngsters such as her shouldn’t even think about setting a foot outside, lest she be squashed by a dragon or smashed under the mace of a hunting goblin. But Thayshia did not take well to being ordered around and restricted like that. She attempted escape many a time and was forced to be under constant surveillance to keep her from getting herself killed. But as she grew older and quicker, and the community started to grow smaller almost every month, they could not keep her until restrain anymore. So out she flew, into a harsh, cruel world where only the strongest survived. But Thayshia understood that way of thinking well and found the idea of spending her life hiding from those stronger than her disgusting. She would not stand for that. She’d gain power and stand on her own instead, shred her way to the top if need be to change her fate.

Unfortunately, she quickly learned that despite her powers of controlling red mana, she was no match for the various creatures wandering the lands. She was young and had never seen battle, whereas most other creatures had battled from the moment they were born. Her offensive magic was powerful, yes, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from almost dying the second she ran into a creature of any sort. So she was forced to return home numerous times, resting for a bit before she ran away again. Eventually the villagers stopped bothering to try and stop her, and instead settled to just advising her not to be so reckless, especially since, with the diminishing of white mana from the lands, they had no healers around. Thayshia sneered at that, proclaiming she didn’t need a healer.

And yet, that word refused to leave her mind; a healer. When she flew and overlooked the battles of many ground bound beasts, she couldn’t help but notice that the first real battle they encased in was always the last one they saw. There were no second chances, as there was nothing – nobody to heal them from the grave wounds they received. Unless the individual was blessed with ability to use black mana to heal themselves, they were doomed. And that gave young Thayshia an idea. For once she returned home out of her own free will and announced that she would become a healer. But as she looked around, she realized the community had shrunk to but a handful of people. There was her best friend growing up; a very shy Elven boy, her mother and three others she didn’t really know. Nobody really cared to rejoice for her decision at such a grief filled time. But Thayshia couldn’t let that stop her. There was a vast world for her to see and with the tactic she had just come up with, she’d soon be ready to conquer it all. She couldn’t stay home and grieve with her mother as she had a goal now, and all the passion she had just looked to direct at something finally got a target. So she bid her farewells, knowing full well they could be the last. But such was life. Her staying and limiting her own potential wouldn’t help them the slightest.

So she took flight and traversed the lands again, but this time not with the intention to study the fights of its creatures. No, this time she sought to connect with the very land itself. And slowly, she did learn to tap into the green mana still flowing within the lands, and found a way to use that to heal individuals. She had always had the possibility to use green mana, it was just something she had always put aside in favor of the more offensive red. But now that she embraced it, she could feel it flowing within her, giving her power. But it wasn’t her own powers she harvested in order to heal others. Instead, she used the inner energy of the healed beings themselves. Smaller cuts received by any individual healed in time, it was natural. So she used that power of nature itself, intensifying it, making the process more fluid and rapid. It didn’t tire her much, and yet it got the job done. It was perfect.

But by the time she had gained mastery of her healing arts and returned home once again, she realized she was alone; everyone else was gone, taken by either the monsters or their age. And although part of her was sad for the loss, another part of her was relieved. Now there truly was nothing to bind her to this place. She was free. Truly free. She did make graves for her parents and friends, but offered no prayer. There was nobody to pray to in Jund. There was just strength. And those who had died just hadn’t been strong enough.

She abandoned the small cavern deep within the mountains that had housed the community and left in search of a wounded human; human because those were one of the easiest creatures to negotiate with, and wounded because she was finally ready to put her tactic to use. She couldn’t beat the creatures of the land with her offensive spells, she was but a frail Faerie in the midst of hordes of beasts, after all. It annoyed her to admit to it, but such was the cruel truth. But that was alright, as she had something else to use now. So she offered her services as a healer, a being capable of letting you fight another day. It took some dedication, it took withstanding attacks when some didn’t want to listen to her, it took determination to keep her fiery temper in check, and it took practice to hone her negotiation skills, but she persevered and managed to gather some interest. She travelled with many different masters, healing them after battles and watching as they rushed to continue their stupid melees. She watched the barbarians bash their heads against each other and waited patiently for them to return and demand healing. And at the same time she practiced her offensive spells, because she wasn’t ready to be nothing but a healer her whole life.

And so, one day, in her foolish lust for power she joined another master in a fight against a dragon. Needless to say, that did not end well; she had barely launched her attack when the dragon’s massive jaw closed around her and everything went black. She died. At least, she was pretty sure she did; there was pain unlike any other she had ever experienced, after which she felt… at peace. And then there was a stinging jolt somewhere inside her. The comforting feeling she had been experienced disappeared and pain engulfed her again. And suddenly, she felt like she understood not only life, but death, better than before. Perhaps because she had died, just now? Or because she had been so close to it? She didn’t know, but she felt in power.

Overtaken by knowledge, she started to use her powers within the dragon’s mouth. She knew exactly what to do, for some reason unbeknownst to her. She could heal. She could tap into the energy of others. So naturally, she should be able to do the opposite as well, using the very same energy; if she could give life, she could give death. The two were two sides of a single coin. So she placed her hands against the tongue of the beast, readying her powers just like she did when about to start her healing process. But this time, she started to make the huge beast sick, started to sap away its energy and health and gain it for herself instead. There was a huge pool out of which to extract energy from, and it empowered her to extremes she could never have imagined before. And with that newfound power boosting her spells, she let burst her offensive attacks, damaging the dragon from the inside and managing to break free from its jaws. The beast did not fall, of course, but it did back down enough for her to hightail it away. And she really did get away: very, very far away, into another world entirely.

She just wasn’t quite sure how, as planewalking was not a concept known to her back then.

But she did like it. She took on the challenge of exploring the new world she was cast in, one of iron and metal. And it wasn’t the only world she traveled in; she walked to other worlds, and quickly realized the sheer potential that came with her skill; she could take wisdom from one world, planewalk to another one without it and sell it there. The entire world was open to her now, quite successfully fulfilling her dream of limitless freedom. So now that one dream was taken care of, she’d better choose another one to aim towards. Something big. Something amazing. Something the entire Multiverse could one day hear of. It would just take time for her to find something like that…

Meanwhile, there were people for her to heal and cheat out of their money. She did take note that there was something rather peculiar going on in the world, but not knowing much about the workings of the multiverse apart from the wastelands and mountains of Jund, she figured all those strange things were just common phenomena. And yet, there was a feeling that everything wasn’t quite right pounding in the back of her mind all the while, annoying her to no end.

Abilities: She has a frail body, so all her attacks are in the form of different spells. Drawing from her fiery temper and the deep emotions she feels but has often been forced to suppress, Thayshia can use extremely powerful (albeit tiring) offensive spells in the form of electricity and fire. The form these attacks take vary depending on the emotion she uses to fuel them, but they’re destructive and energy consuming to use all the same. She has some trouble controlling these powers every now and then, as sometimes her emotions play a bigger role in that than her mind.

She can heal tapping into the power of nature and the natural healing capabilities within each and every creature. She hastens that process with her magic and so, she can effectively heal her target. While her attacking spells are greatly tiring to her and she can’t use too many of them in succession, healing doesn’t draw much energy from herself (rather, it uses the potential already present within the individual she’s healing), and so she can use it freely. In addition, as she learned to use the energies within living creatures, she also developed another use for them through mixing black with her green mana; she learned how to corrupt that energy and poison the target instead of heal, or if she so wills, steal that energy and use it to her own benefit. She can sap away the very life force she manipulates and use it to enhance her offensive spells and heal herself. With that she can, for example, use another offensive spell she would otherwise be unable to use due to exhaustion, or possibly boost their power. The difficult part is that in order for her to start using her black mana powers, she first needs to use her green ones and thus, be at close proximity to the target.

Equipment: The only thing worth mentioning is her simple, wooden staff which she uses to poke people and channel her magic through. It has no special decorations or powers; it’s just a piece of wood she carries to feel safer.

Plane From: Alara, Jund shard

--

Spoiler:- Rckaird the Archon:

Name: Rckaird IroncladAge: 120 (around 60 in human years)Gender: MaleSpecies: ArchonClass: Knight/WarriorColor(s): White/BlueAppearance: Rckaird is a tall man, standing around 7’6’’ in height and reaching even higher up when on the back of his winged lion mount. Not an inch of his skin is visible anywhere, as his entire body is clad in heavy steel armor; even his face is obscured entirely from view by a big, metallic hood attached to his shoulders. If you happened to peer inside the hood you would be met only with darkness, like he wouldn’t have a face at all. Whether or not he actually has one is a mystery, though he is able to talk and hear just fine. In either case, neither his eye nor hair color is known. The fact you can never see his face means that it’s immensely difficult to read his mood, not at all helped by the fact he rarely – if ever – talks, so most are left guessing exactly what goes on in his head. At least to regular townspeople he often seems very intimidating due to this.

Rckaird has broad shoulders and quite a bit of muscle, though it’s difficult to measure well due to all the armor. Still, he seems fully capable of swinging around heavy weaponry and lifting creatures far bigger than himself, so it would seem he doesn’t lack physical strength.

The armor Rckaird wears is heavy and gold in color, shining brightly whenever he uses light-based attacks. This illuminated armor gives him sort of a divine appearance at times, especially among the common folk. He has separate boots from the rest of his armor, decorated with curvy, metallic patterns and reaching his knee. The only non-metallic part of his getup is a cape that goes with his hood, colored red. He carries around a huge sword, a trident and a shield, the first of the two silver and the latter the same golden color as the rest of his equipment.

He is almost without fail being seen accompanied by a large, muscled lion with huge, eagle-like wings. This creature’s is called Gshir, though not many of its name; usually when Rckaird and Gshir converse it’s done telepathically. Gshir is, after all, part of Rckaird himself, so he hardly needs words to communicate with it. The lion is deep brownish red in color and much larger than any regular feline; it’s about the size of an adult rhino and weighs accordingly. Its wings are brown in color and extremely strong; Gshir is capable of carrying a handful of adult men on its back without much effort. Rckaird himself weighs quite a bit, so strength is a necessity to Gshir.

Personality: Rckaird holds the values of something he calls “absolute good” in extremely high regard. That is to say, he believes everyone guilty of even the slightest misdeed should be punished severely, so as to not give evil the opportunity to strengthen and spread. He is a firm believer in upholding the law through any means necessary and is cold and ruthless towards anyone he doesn’t believe to strive for the greater good. No crime committed in his presence will be left unpunished, be the culprit man, woman or child; the criminal’s characteristics don’t affect the severity of the crime itself, and as such everyone should be punished equally. Yet, even if he kills someone against the law, he doesn’t think of it as wrong. After all, he did it with a noble cause, and it was a just kill. If he sees fit he won’t hesitate to rewrite the laws of whatever world he’s visiting to make sure no evil-doer escapes. Indeed, in essence he believes he is the Law itself, and therefore no actions he takes can be wrong; it’s all for the greater good in the end, all for making the world a Paradise for everyone. Murder in the name of law is not a crime, it’s a necessity, no matter how unfortunate that is. He is just doing his duty as the Multiverse’s Judge. Oh, and hold no hopes of making him realize that what he’s doing might not be the best way to accomplish world peace; he will not listen to the lies of heretics and you’d rather not be on his bad side.

As is probably clear by now, his extremist views on what is good and just makes him come off as extremely cruel whenever he’s met with crime. Is it really right to punish someone who steals food to live with death? In his eyes yes, yes it is. There is no excuse for criminal behavior, no matter how small the offense. Laws are put in place for a reason, there are no ifs or buts when following them, and if you let one crime slide, you need to let slide another and eventually it becomes a cycle, feeding evil and tying the hands of the good people trying to bring order. It’s better if it’s made clear from the start that no misbehaving will be tolerated.

He might sound like a bad person and a hypocrite, and while those arguments could be easily made against him, he is held in high respect in many of the places he frequents for a reason. He has saved many a people and town, and for those upholding and respecting the laws he is like a completely different person; caring and kind, yet still strict. He is like a father, you could say, guiding the masses with an iron fist. While he rarely talks, he shows compassion for those in need through other means; for example, he often gives food and money to the poor, provided, of course, that they haven’t strayed from the righteous path during their years of misery. He will go out of his way to save an individual in trouble, but is still a firm believer in “the needs of many take priority over the needs of one”, so he makes every decision with that in mind. Leaving someone to die is not a decision he does with pride, but it is sometimes a necessary one. This also means that he will not save anyone if it would mean sacrificing himself; as the representative of order he needs to live in order to keep peace and turn the entire Multiverse into a utopia not unlike Bant. When weighed against that, the life of one citizen is nothing, as cruel as it sounds.

Like mentioned, he rarely talks and due to that, many actually take him for a mute. But the real reason behind his silence is that he sees words as unnecessary. Words can lie and it’s easy to utter whatever comes in mind while not really meaning it, and so he’d rather show his approval or disapproval through actions. This often has the effect of making people scared of him, as he is an imposing figure with no face to read expressions from, and it can be unnerving at best when he stands next to you in complete silence for prolonged periods of time. That isn’t something Rckaird minds, however, and he actually takes steps himself to ensure people uphold some sort of fearful respect for him. There can be no real respect without fear, after all.

Rckaird considers all black mana users “evil” to some extent, and will keep a watchful eye on anyone he sees practicing its usage. He doesn’t go and kill anyone just for that, as he realizes destroying all black mana users would count as a mass murder and most likely lead to revolts, but he will be even stricter on what he allows them to do. He sees every single one of them as selfish, unneeded people who only bring distort to the peace he has created.

He is analytical and not quick to anger; in fact if you asked him, he would tell you he is incapable of truly feeling anger, sadness or anything of the sort. He is above emotions, he would tell you. Say that he cast them away ages ago in order to stop them from hindering his judgment. This is actually where the lion accompanying him comes from; shortly after Rckaird ascended into an Archon, he sealed his emotions away through magical means. But because keeping them sealed within his mind would tire him out and there’d always be the risk of them breaking free, he molded them into a creature of their own; Gshir the winged lion. It’s a creature that lives within his mind as its own individual, and yet at the same time, as part of his mind. But because it’s a separate being, Rckaird finds it easier to control. Gshir is impulsive, proud and fueled by emotions, but it, too, has a sense of duty and follows every order Rckaird gives it. It will not stand ridicule or foolishness however, and is much quicker to attack than its calm “owner.”

History: Rckaird was born as a human in the plane of Zendikar. From a very young age, he was taught how to use magic. His parents were scholars, doing research and admiring greatly the ancient civilization that used to populate the land. They wished to find a way to bring back the great power the ancients had wielded, and so they travelled the lands and visited various ruins in their search for knowledge. Rckaird was naturally dragged along, and explained many times over why it was imperative he learned to wield mana as soon as humanly possible. His parents were pretty old already, and so when they finally had had a son they had wished for him to continue their research and maybe, if he started to study mana earlier than they had, unravel something they couldn’t. They had started their research too late, but they would not make the same mistake twice. Rckaird didn’t mind, really, he liked playing with the blue mana he seemed to have an alignment for, and it was fun impressing his parents. Plus, knowing magic really helped in the dangerous world they lived in.

As they travelled, Rckaird quickly got a chance to see just how chaotic the word they lived in was. There were no laws except those dictated by nature, and even they didn’t seem to make much sense. Everything was distorted, wild and dangerous. But it was all Rckaird knew, so he never even dreamed of anything better. This was the world, this was where he would live until he died. At least, that’s what the young 12-year old boy thought one night when he and his parents spent their night in the wilderness and like always, he sat near the campfire, playing with water and making it dance around the flames to raise smoke. Perhaps they were lured in by the smoke, or perhaps the trio was just out of luck, but it was that night that they were attacked by wandering bandits. Rckaird’s parents put the most value to the life of their son and the preservation of the artifacts they held, so the family’s father ordered the two others to run while he attempted to fend off the fiends. Rckaird and his mother got away with most of their valuables, but he never heard of his father ever again. It was clear he hadn’t made it. It was probably at that moment that Rckaird learned to truly hate criminals. So far he had seen many a robbery and assault, but none of that had ever touched him personally. He had always been a quiet boy, just playing with his small canteen and making the water inside do tricks and assume animalistic forms for him, never paying much attention to the crime that went on only few tens of feet away. But now… now it had affected him. And he was mad.

But his mother, despite her sorrow, could just not stop there. She knew that her husband would have wanted her to keep going in search of history as well, and so before Rckaird knew it, he was already back on the road, his heart heavy and legs weak. But never again did he look away when crime was taking place. He didn’t go and do anything, he didn’t have the power. He just looked on with hatred and disgust. But, as years passed and he grew, his hatred started to slowly subside. Chaos and accidents like these were commonplace; people died all the time and there was nothing anyone could do. That was just the way the world worked.

And then, one day pretty much everything changed.

The 19 year old Rckaird and his mother happened upon one of the biggest ruins they had ever encountered. The feeling they got off it, the power seeping from within was unlike anything they had ever seen before. That alone should have been a warning for them not to enter, but Rckaird’s mother was hell bent on solving the mysteries of the past during her lifetime, and so she rushed inside and her son was forced to follow to make sure nothing happened.

As if he could prevent what would soon take place.

They dug up and explored the vast ruins for a year or so, before they finally managed to get further in and encounter the source of all that power; it was a tool of some sort, laying in the far corner of a lone room, but whether its use had been to kill or to create wasn’t clear. They had no idea what it was or what it had been used for in the past, but they nevertheless approached it with fearful respect. That was, until his mother decided to lay a hand on it. In a second the entire room was filled with mana, so heavy and crushing it brought the two flat on their faces and threatened to crush them both under its heavy press. Rckaird remembered the entire world getting distorted, melting, gaining back its original form and finally turning black.

It was then that his Planeswalker spark ignited, however, it wasn’t the only thing that changed within him.

When he woke, he wasn’t in the ruins anymore. Instead, he was in a place that seemed to soothe his soul the moment he could blink his eyes open and behold his surroundings. Everything was silent, golden, pure and at peace. The ground didn’t suddenly erupt, there were no screams or monsters, just winged creatures that looked at him with pity and rushed to help him when they realized just how heavily he was hurt. His entire face was bleeding, his features unreadable through it all.

For the longest while, Rckaird was sure he had died. But he was not a religious boy, and he still seemed capable of experiencing pain. Immense pain, in fact. All the time. And it reminded him he was alive, though not quite human anymore. There wasn’t any visible change, but he just felt very different. It was like something had mover around within his body, trying to change him, and yet every time Rckaird was sure he’d become a monster of some sort, the feeling died down. It was as if it didn’t know what to change him into. The pain persisted and for the longest time, seemed to try and keep him from standing. And alone, he probably wouldn’t have been able to fight it, but there were angels aiding him, smiling benevolently down at him. His face was wrapped in bandages and he could barely see through it all, but he was alive. But then, where was he? That was the first question he asked, though he quickly found himself not really caring. This was a paradise, so different from what he had witnessed. The name didn’t really matter. What mattered was how did this world become so perfect while Zendikar… was a wreck.

Rckaird spent years in the Bant shard of Alarna, learning from the angels and growing to respect the peace there. Rules. Order. The absence of chaos that wrecked both lands and minds alike. That was what his home needed too. And as his personality and ideals slowly molded into something new, the feeling within him seemed to calm, as well. And year by year, Rckaird changed, slowly starting his transformation into something else; he grew taller, his senses started to strengthen despite the horrible condition his face had been in ever since the accident… But he didn’t really even pay any mind to that. He was too busy studying, absorbing the place’s ideals and wishing he could somehow bring them back home and initiate change for the better. But how could he bring such things there? He didn’t even know how he would get himself there. His Planeswalker spark had ignited, yes, but it wasn’t something he knew how to use. Whenever he tried, the pain that had accompanied him ever since he first planewalked grew even more intense. And so, for years, he retained from even trying to get back home. Eventually, however, the memory of his father’s demise arose anew, and the young man could not sleep a single night without thinking of home. He had accepted his father’s death as something natural that couldn’t be helped, but now he knew that just wasn’t true. Zendikar could he helped, he just needed to get back. He needed to help. Ensure nothing of the sort happened again. And… though he was hesitant to say it loud, to gain revenge.

Rage started to build up within him, and the angels quickly took note of that. Some of his friends came to him and told him that what he harbored needed to go if he ever looked to change anything for the better. He needed to cast away something awful like that. So Rckaird tried, focused only on the thought of bringing law and peace, and despite the pain, he forced himself to use his powers. His body felt almost like it would break apart but he withstood it and just focused. And it was then that his form changed completely; the power of change he had obtained finally had a direction.

And so, when he ended up back in Zendikar, he was no longer human; he was clad in golden armor and there was a light surrounding him. He felt in power and the pain had finally faded away. He was an Archon, born from a sip of the ancient power that dwelled in Zendikar, as well as the determination to bring law. He was an ascended being. It felt great. He instantly got to work in trying to bring order in his home world. However, his mind was constantly haunted by the wish for revenge; when he was stopping a crime, when he was lecturing people, whatever he did, one eye always kept a lookout for a familiar face he could rip open. He was powerful enough to do so. He was powerful enough for anything! And with that realization, along came the temptation to misuse his power, if only for a brief moment; maybe he could force the weak to do work for him and go to dig up the ruins his parents had been so obsessed about? It was a thought not unlike that, that finally snapped him out of it and made him realize that he was starting to stray from his path of righteousness. Emotions, those vile things needed to go.

And so, through magical means, he gave a form to any thought that didn’t further his goal of bettering the world and locked them away. They took the form of a winged lion which, at first, was nothing but a pile of emotions stuck together. But slowly it started to gain a mind of its own, somewhat. It was still part of him and not sentient in the word’s strictest sense, but it wasn’t just a mass of emotions and magic slapped together anymore, either. With emotions out of the way, Rckaird could finally start purifying the world properly, riding on the back of his lion like a proper Archon.

Ever since then he has travelled the planes, seeking to bring order and justice wherever he goes. He spent a considerable amount of time in Ravnica, joining the Boros clan there. During the years many of the clam members started to view him as the epitome of law, and he holds a high rank within the clan. He often visits them to report of the work he has done, and to check on how they’re holding up. Still, despite all the planes out there, his main focus will always be Zendikar and its chaotic vastness. Especially since lately, the place has been starting to get overrun by huge monsters…

Abilities: Apart from fighting physically very often, Rckaird has extremely good control over water magic, as he has experimented with it ever since he was a child. Now, combined with his light powers, he can create tides of cleansing water that washes away ill-intent. It has a soothing effect in smaller doses, but if he keeps it up it becomes a whirpool that drains away from the person’s very being, eventually destroying anything “bad” about them. That is to say, it also kills free will and their very mind, though it needs time for that, more so the stronger and more benevolent the target is. For evil or weak creatures, it works much faster and does more damage.

He can also have water take on many different forms and shapes, controlling it freely and molding it into anything from a small insect to a huge dragon, as well as have it take the form of his enemy and fight like a mirror image of them, though naturally it doesn’t gain any of their abilities.

He can counter spells and have them attack their original caster as well, though this requires precise timing and concentration, and doesn’t work with multiple attackers at once.

Unlike most white aligned creatures, Rckaird can’t heal others. Instead his white mana is destructive. As a slightly deadlier and modified version of his water/light attack, he can create light so bright it burns away at the target, blinding them and scorching them from the inside, burning away at every single bad deed they have ever committed, only stopping when the light dies out or Rckaird judges them to have made up for their sins. It’s a fate that often befalls criminals he catches, and most of the time, when the light fades nothing is left of the target.

His lion can also fight beside him, though it knows no magic.

Equipment: I really had no idea whether or not some of these are considered off-limit or something by the canon (the shield was called indestructible for example, but I’m just going to go with “very, very sturdy" instead unless it’s a legendary item or… something) so feel free to educate me if I got something wrong!

Lighting Greaves - Greaves that give an electrical charge to his kicks and make him faster.

Surestrike trident - A trident for better controlling his water attacks. This is his secondary weapon, his primary being an extremely large greatsword. If he combines water with the trident, then he combines light with the sword, making its slashes burning and it's surface gleaming with light whenever he unsheathes it. The sword is really heavy, usually meant to be wielded with both hands, but he manages it one-handed. There are few decorations running along the hilt, but the blade itself is regular. Nobody would be able to see any decorations on it anyway due to the light.

For protection he uses a very sturdy, also shining shield which covers his chest completely when held in front of it. It's moderately sized, but compared to the huge sword it might look small at times. He uses it deflect attacks and often combines it with his counter magic, making the shield give out a counterattack whenever an attack lands on its surface.

GoldenHouou: Thayshia is accepted. And Rckaird is Accepted...ish. The Shield of Kaldra and the Worldslayer are a both a bit of a no-no. Shield of Kaldra especially works in conjunction with the other 2 "Kaldra" artifacts and is exclusive to Mirrodin lore. The Worldslayer...kills everything, everywhere. Unless you had another idea for it and just wanted to use the name/image as an inspiration, so it would need a better description.

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Ah, I was a bit leery with those two (the name Worldslayer kind of made me question whether it... literally really slayed worlds or something, but I figured it was just a fancy name for a fancy sword, and I did notice the other two Kaldra artifacts, but didn't realize they were a set.) I'll just take those out and don't use a card for his shield and sword, then, only description if that's okay. Will get to editing right away.

Yeah. I'll probably be bringing the Kaldra artifacts in at some point...minorly. And Worldslayer literally destroys everything in the game. Artifacts, creatures, lands, enchantments. Anything that's on the field at the same time, it kills.

But yeah, everything's good now.

"You can call yourself whatever you want.
Soldier. Leader. Patriot. Revolutionary. It doesn't matter.
At our core we're all the same thing.
Monsters."

Name: Embodiment of Despair, VernachAge: ~2000 years old (counting from the moment he manifested)Gender: Male. Though anatomically genderless unless he so chooses.Species: Demon Class: Shapeshifter WizardColor(s): Blue, Black, RedAppearance: Being a born shapeshifter, he’s taken a number of different forms over the millenniums, but there are three particular forms he’s rather fond of using: a Human form, a purely Demonic form and one somewhat in between (the one he has taken to calling as his “normal” form.) As a human, Vernach resembles the planeswalker whose spark he’d usurped so long ago (it takes from Vernach’s sense of irony a man in his mid-twenties, well-built and handsome (most likely “slightly” more than the original) with sharp, defying eyes, but an overall casual, ordinary face, and silky raven colored hair. He usually takes this shape to play the role of underdog or innocent caught up in whatever events he’s trying to get involved with, changing the clothes he wears according to the situation.

His “normal” form is by far his most common and the one he is most comfortable with. He chooses to appear like this to those who he is about to make a pact with, or to the very few who know him personally (and by him, he does not mean one of his personas.) The overall look of it is humanoid, to be sure, having the same number of appendages, external organs and all that jazz, but the similarities mostly end there. In this form, his skin has a hard, rocky texture and is crimson shaded, almost like it is perpetually coated in blood, with large, deep blue stains running through the surface. His shoulders are wide, and his arms, always exposed, are toned and muscled (redundancy hurray). His head seems to be caught midway through the transformation between human and demon: it bears the same rough skin texture as the rest of his body, yet is but the size of a normal human’s head. He often bears the same medium raven black hair his human form had, though he likes to switch between this and a random set of horns. Or both.
The clothes Vernach wears in this form are a buckled suit entirely made of leather, dyed as dark as his own body but bearing a blood red shade, though he’s taking to adding a bit of blue to it for contrast. It is completely sleeveless, the top part being nothing more than a tight vest which reveals his shoulders and arms, and is stylized by… belts and buckles. A lot of them. The trousers are kept tight to the legs by a descending circle of belts with outer buckles, same as his vest .The whole look is completed by classical boots. Vernach believes it gives him a bit of class and does well to settle the whole “demon” thing he has going on, making him look more approachable and business like (while the naked arms and protruding horns serve as a reminder of who they are addressing.)

His purely demonic form, though, loses all of the casualness and weak façades, trading those for a substantial amount of raw power. In this form, he becomes a titanic demon with leathery wings (each as wide as an Armodon,) ashen skin and massive horns. Thick, rock like plaques grow on his fists, feet and waist, made from alchemical adamantium (recipe stolen by the Dimir from the Izzet.) Not only does this make them impossible to penetrate, they also ensure nothing crushed beneath Vernach’s demonic fist will live to tell the tale. He wears little to nothing on this form, because, really… would you?

Personality: A demon with an endless life is, above all, patient. The amount of raw power he’s accumulated through his long, long life also gave him a sense of god-like superiority; playing with “mortals” is a sport like any other, and one that even after all this time still amuses him. He is a trickster and a liar, to the point he could tell you the truth you want to know and still believe it’s a lie.

Vernach seems to be permanently grinning. He is completely satisfied with his life, with his status and his power, and the complete ability to use and abuse his gifts, which he often does. Even though he draws sustenance from a person’s feelings and emotions, particularly despair and fear, he is perfectly capable of pleasing his huge ego simply by pummeling down a being several times taller than him. Taking down dragons and titanic monstrosities with nothing but his bare fists, for example, is a favorite of his. Even though he is a wizard at heart, he loves showing off his brutal demonic strength. If he is close to god-like perfection, he needs to be as physically strong as he is mystically powerful, after all. Or else it just wouldn’t do.

Vernach loves planeswalking and exploring new places. An eternity of living naturally needs to constantly meet and see new things, particularly in the case of a power hungry demon. He overreaches the influence of his own personal empire to several planes, leaving behind the roots for great schemes that are often left cooking for centuries before he picks them up again.

Socially, Vernach is more than inadequate. He outright mocks people and their attempts at futility. He simply enjoys being a sarcastic deadpanner, never letting go of his characteristic grin when he verbally crushes the feeble intelligence of those beneath him. It is another thing that gives him pleasure. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that if anything, anything at all, has a chance of amusing Vernach even slightly, he’ll do it. Unless his calculative mind tells him he benefits more from standing back and doing nothing, which he honestly rarely does. But initiating the spark of conflict then standing back and watching it escalate into all out war is definitely amusing. There is something poetic about the ever constant presence of chaos in the hearts of all.

History: Warning: reading the Plane section first will make this section much less confusing. I advise you go read that part first, then come here.

Vernach started as an accumulation of negative feelings: longing, weakness, paralyzing sadness and, most importantly, that which bound them all: despair. He had no form, no sentience, and most would say this was before he even achieved existence. In this fetus stage, he grew by absorbing negative feelings that coincided with those he was already made of and tempered this cluster of emotion by living independent memories of tragedies, be them romances, epic battles lost or the story of sad, unlucky man who’d lost all he ever loved. Over centuries he evolved, eventually gaining awareness, then sentience, then… a sense of self. A Demon was born. In the centuries between his “birth” and his manifestation on the physical world, he ventured the Sea of Memories for knowledge and experience. In the memories of the dead he learned of the living world, of magic, of politics and religion… By the time he was approached by a cult of Dreamers, he was already well-versed in all matters human and more than able to provide the knowledge and power the cultists sought.

They approached him seeking all manner of things: knowledge, power… omniscience. They had fooled themselves into thinking a demon could grant them all of it by virtue of its nature as living magic alone. So, he fed of them. He fed as he nurtured those delusions; first simply nibbling their desires and hidden emotions, then delving into distant memories and absorbing their emotional value. His parasitism only ended when he physically devoured the flesh of his followers, which ended up fully cementing his physical form and ending all existential instabilities he’d been suffering. Finally able to venture out of the cave his follower’s had built him, he extended his influence over all of Aria. Two decades after he’d already travelled and feasted on all the corners of Aria, his powers greater than they ever were. Yet, he grew bored. He felt he was beginning to run out of new things and experiences to do after but twenty years of living – a thought that would terrify anyone with the potential for immortality. This world had already given him nearly everything… but he craved more. He knew his current self was but a fraction of what he could be, and he craved more.

It was then that he met a traveler: a young mage with a distinct smell. Everything about him was mysterious: his very essence was foreign, his accent, his mannerisms were unlike those of the people he’d met until then, he weaved unknown magics and he spoke of things Vernach could only dream of. It was like Vernach became infatuated with this human, or rather, by what the human represented. Something new. Something different. He wanted it. His life experience, his new magics, his knowledge… He wanted it all!

So they fought in a bloody battle that pushed Vernach farther than he’d ever been pushed. He used every single trick in his arsenal, and not even his blue counter magic, his black death magic and his demonic strength were enough. Finally, after both knew they had exhausted the other, Vernach felt a pull in the world’s very fabric. The other mage was a Planeswalker, and though pride had ordered him to stay, the danger his life was in finally urged him to escape. To ‘walk – to JUMP – somewhere far far away and rest. Vernach knew not what planeswalking was, but he could tell the man was running, and he couldn’t condone that. He summoned all of his remaining magic, he pulled all the mana from the forest, the swampy lake and the very air and shot himself at the mage. Not a second after and Vernach was on top of him, pinning the human down on the ground. And he feasted again. He feasted on his flesh. He feasted on his memories. He feasted on his power. With his mouth he absorbed the physical aspect of the man, and with a swirling black energy he consumed the magic, the spiritual, and the mental. He’d never dined on someone to this extent. Every fiber of his being – everything that man had been and could ever be – was transferred to Vernach. Even the spark.

Bearing the memories of the ‘walker, he knew exactly what he now was, and what was just opened to him. Infinity. He immediately jumped to a new plane and began his millennia long quest for exploration and power.

A few centuries passed before he arrived on Ravnica, where he quickly became affiliated with the Dimir, where his powers as a shapeshifter, mind-manipulating teleporting Planeswalker shone. As the years passed, Vernach went from being just another agent, to being the head of the Moroi squad and eventually to a being of such power in the guild he rivaled the necromages. It was this guild that honed his abilities as a long term planer and manipulator capable of orchestrating thousands of people to believe – and create – a whole new reality, sometimes without even the need for memory manipulation or illusions (something he became an expert at.)

However, the tightly controlled structure of the entire guild, its secrecy and its code of conduct meant Vernach rarely had a chance to unleash his full power in an all out bloodbath/massacre of many. That pleasure, that feeling of almost sexual release (perhaps the closest thing a demon could feel to it) was only ever found amidst the Rakdos. Vernach never really became a part of this guild, but, being a demon, he was more than welcomed at their sacramental bloodbaths. He made sure to constantly shapeshift and to always create a new alias when dealing with the Rakdos, but the sort of carnage he witnessed – as well as the carnage he unleashed – taught him a type of direct confrontational magic he would never learn from the Dimir. His Black and Red magic grew the most here, and this was where he learnt that raw power was as much of a threat as centuries worth of manipulation.

Vernach was living his dream. His power and influence extended far beyond a single world, and his knowledge exceeded that of entire planes put together. He truly felt like one of the most powerful creatures in the multiverse, and for the first time in his long life he achieved satisfaction.

All of it was destroyed by the Mending. The phenomenom that changed the very face of the multiverse and altered the laws for planeswalkers affected him far more than it did any other Planeswalker. When his spark changed its very properties, it was temporarily disconnected from Vernach’s very being. The wave of power Vernach unleashed during this experience – the excess power that his spark would no longer hold – ripped him apart. It reverberated right back across time and space and found the one truth: Vernach was a being of memories and intangibility. A simple error in the universe’s logic born from the chaos of an infinity of rebirth’s and the haste needed to fix the bugs in reality caused Vernach to remember his status as a being made from coalesced memories, only capable of attaining physical form by stealing the very flesh of others. Vernach saw all of the power and knowledge he had physically escape his body, and in no time felt his own body cease to exist. His essence, now an innumerable amount of shards of his former existence, was split apart infinitely. The shift in reality itself made one tuing clear: he was not real, and that reminder nearly ended up erasing him. For a moment, Vernach was unsure if he even existed.

It took all his might to reassemble himself. This time, he didn’t use the Planeswalker spark as the glue that held all of his pieces together. He became one with it. He returned to life weaker than he’d felt in centuries, a shadow of his former self. If he ever appeared like this in front of the Dimir, he’d be killed for his weakness; a loose end no longer capable of keeping the secrets that were the very core of the guild. So he ran, once again embarking on a journey to grow stronger. He visited many places, from Mirrodin to Shadowmoor, and learned many new magics as well as recuperated most of his old powers. His position in the Dimir was secure even when he spent decades missing: his subordinates were orderly little sheep and his duties were being carried out diligently. After all, it was not unusual for a Dimir head to spend decades – even centuries – without giving so much as a sign of being alive yet still getting his work done. Heck, such a thing was expected of them. Vernach had already learned how to do that from a distance; he’d never stopped planeswalking even when he set up semi-permanent stay in Ravnica.

Now, Vernach once again seeks to grow powerful, his thirst only growing bigger after he was stripped of everything he’d earned. With a cunning mind and the knowledge of 2000 years travelling the Blind Eternities, there is little this Archdemon can’t achieve.

Abilities: Vernach’s powers fall to rather large categories: his blue spells (for deceit, trickery and mind manipulation,) his black spells (used in combat and more… particular occasions), his red spells (for pure chaos and destruction whenever it was needed) and his multicolor spells (used to affect space, the aether, to rot minds and counter magic, in the case of black and blue, for example.)

From blue mana he extracts the ability to shapeshift, to intrude another’s mind (and manipulate it) and the ability to hide his presence; most of these skills, if not all of them, were gained under the watchful care of the Dimir. This explains why, aside from the ability to shapeshift his body into weapons, forming a blade on his arm or adding the occasional extra limb, these techniques rarely influence the flow of battle. No, for when the need to show his true power arises, he prefers to fall back to the energy-stealing, power-granting, life-taking, debilitating, gore-loving wonder of black mana.
Vernach uses black mana to wither away his opponents strength and feed his own. While he is more than capable of rending you inside out with a surge of black energy, or to simply destroy you with a single spell, he much prefers to see you struggle and slowly let your despair grow. He gorges on this feeling, and is overjoyed by the broken will of the foolish hero who collapses after every single spell he knew left but a scratch on him. He loves toying with his enemies from the start.

But Vernach can do yet more: he can fuse these two schools to weaken enemy spells with deadly efficiency, or he can instead manipulate the very fabric of space using blue mana, and weaken its very structure with black mana, granting him the capacity to “teleport” between the special soft spots he created. And, last but not least, should he ever find himself in some bizarre event where he is so outnumbered his powers alone cannot ensure victory, his will to succeed will coalesce into a devil: a manifestation of a demon’s emotions, and empower him with the strength and numbers he needs.

He truthfully can’t very well fuse the blue and red spells, since he does not have that close acquantaince with madness and genious that the Izzet have. He can combine red and black magic for a single spell combining the destructive aspecst the black and red schools have individually, but the effects aren’t as diverse or unique as the combination of black and blue.

Equipment: Presently, none of relevance.

Plane From (w/description): Arkhos, the Twilight Plane.

Arkhos is a plane perpetually covered in the time between dawn and dusk, where the sun is still setting but night has already come. It does have mornings and proper nights, but due to its very nature, these are either illusions or just a few hours long. However dark this may seem, this does make the plane as a whole eerily beautiful, especially when coupled with the reflective lakes and rivers that run through the continent of Aria. Lingering mist hovering over the surface of the water is a common sight, as are lake side villages, umbral forests and ominous, ever distant mountains. This plane is a romantic’s paradise, but not just due to the scenic beauty.

In Arkhos, the division between dream and reality is thin at best. The plane’s residents live in perpetual doubt of just who they are and what is real, and many find themselves living double lives without knowing when exactly are they awake. Many are knowingly insane, others use the dreams to further their own desires, while some are barely affected. Memories become fickle things and become nearly impossible to hold on to on a world where continuity and perception are luxuries. Many memories are lost to the tides of time, the strongest ones lingering and affecting the real world, trapping those it catches to re-live them, or manifesting as dangerous spirits of mourning, perpetually trapped in the emotion of the memory they were born from. A cautionary tale, if there ever was one.

The abundance of mana, particularly blue and black mana, in conjunction with the tangible property of the mind, dreams and memory have caused many a wild creature to prefer feasting on esoteric matter. Midnight hauntings in Arkhos don’t involve demonic possession or death, but the intrusion of the mind. Spirits and creatures feed off dreams and nightmares, and dine on your finest memories. The more meaningful and emotional it is, the tastier. Particularly intelligent creatures, namely demons and somnomancers (sleep wizards), are not content with this, and manipulate the dreams of their prey in a manner as to engineer a memory of their preference by having them live through a false life the sleeper’s manipulator created.

In Arkhos, where life is a journey filled with deceit and uncertainty, death is something all too often welcomed. Generally referred to as the “enlightenment,” it is compared to the opening of one’s eyes, and other senses, to finally see the truth the mists had kept hidden from them. However, truth is meaningless if it uncovers no lies. This, to most Arkhonites, means that, though welcomed, death is nothing sought too soon and should come only after a long, passionate life. This is the creed that most churches follow. It translates to everyday life as the arkhonites’ love for eventful lives, for mystery and for tragic romances. Arkhon’s art is filled with bittersweet literature, dark paintings and tragic epics, and the architecture is heavily sober and imposing; a traditional gothic.

Aria’s lands are divided in independent territories functioning as city states. The majority of the population sees itself as one nation, but political conflict is a given occurrence. There are rarely any wars, though, so conflict is usually nothing more than a purposely engineered chance for a strong political debate devoid of any real threats. Due to this, most states’ armies are kept as border guards, patrolmen, forest rangers or exorcists. Their hands are usually full even with no wars, though.

Army man and soldiers are, unlike most other plans, rarely masters of the sword or of combat, but usually skilled mages able to perceive the veil between reality and the dream world and strengthen the wall that keeps them separate. Their combat training comes out of a demand to slaughter wild beasts, but given the fact that even these have evolved and adapted the ability to commute with the dream world, no scouting party feels safe without a handful of somnomancers backing them.

But what, exactly, is the dream world?
You will never have an answer for this question. The dream world is form-less and intangible by its very nature. What it is and isn’t depends upon the perception of the one who experiences it. Even its purpose and existence is unanswered, though there are many a legend. The only thing known of it is that it seems to be affected by the beings dragged into it, as well as the time that they spend there. It is speculated (and all but confirmed) that this is where Angels and Demons are born, when a cluster of positive/negative emotions congregates, coalesces and is given form by a third party’s perception. The energies the very existence of this realm generates often seep into the real world, mixing reality with dreams, causing wild mutations and eldritch abominations. Often, the changes created by the merging of both realms in a particular area are only temporary, but, sometimes, there comes a time when a being half real half dream gets caught in the real world and is trapped in a horrific form alien to nature; they call these creatures Nightmares (for the record, they are all horror type, multicolored creatures, either white (dreams) or black (proper nightmares)). These are the single most dangerous reason for the need of Somnomancers in all armies and patrols, and why the academies in Aria specialize in sleep magic (which, just like Spirit Magic is unique in kamigawa, sleep magic is unique in Arkhos, differeing much from the somnomancy of, say, the kithkin.) This is also why the alchemy of Arkhos does not specialize in healing, the making of poisons or compulsive magic research (or, Gods forbid, whatever cruel word describes the horrors of Innistrad’s alchemy,) but for the making and selling of exorcising dusts, sleep regulating potions and reality stabilizing charms (or, for those looking to reach the dream world, the means to more easily traverse the bindery - drugs.)

But, just as most villagers have learned of the existence of two worlds and come to embrace the physical world as the real world, there are those that prefer the metaphysical world of dreams. The reasons for this are many: some are simply insane fools infatuated with the idea of an unstable, ever changing place that accommodates to the visitor’s wishes, other’s wish to brave the Sea of Memories in search of lost lore and magic; a good deal simply wish to understand the place in order to harness its reality bending powers, and form cults dedicated to its study. Though each cult has their name and identity, their cultists are generally referred to as “Dreamers;” the connotation being negative or positive varies from area to area depending on the characteristics of that area’s main cults. These cults are not necessarily evil or benevolent; most are neutral, simply wishing knowledge/power due to greed or unquenchable curiosity and spend their whole lives in a futile search of it, while other cults have developed morals and goals according to their research on the dream world. In their delving of the surreal, many cults come across angels and demons and are forever changed by the event. The encounter with an angel, for example, often comes before the rising of a mad men turned prophet preaching a new religion, or a new facet thereof. Coincidentally, the meeting with a demon sometimes generates the same, but much more often end up with the cult accidentally (or not) bringing the demon into the real world permanently, at which point it becomes their figure head. Unknown to the cult, the demon will simply manipulate its followers with promises of power, eternal life and knowledge (or what have you), feeding off them until it’s strong enough to kill them and walk unbound through the four corners of Arkhos.

The “total” presence of an angel in the physical world is rare –the very nobility that births an angel makes them against embracing false mortality by simplifying their existence to a physical realm- but occasional sightings or appearances do occur. Most of the time, an angel born of a noble soldier’s will to defend will surge from dreams to strike down a Nightmare attacking an innocent woman, only to dive back into dreams again. The few angels that do cross over and become trapped in the physical world either die (the church and some academies state this is due to the original dream/will that formed it being too weak to survive real world issues; ie, empty idealism,) become absent heroes/vigilantes, or prominent political/religious figureheads.

The mediator of city states is one such angel. Dubbed an “Archangel,” the prefix given to other worldly creatures that manage to survive in the physical world for more than 1000 years (yes, this makes Vernach and Archdemon in Arkhon,) the angel Lythia presides over more stressful or sensitive gatherings of the state leaders, and serves as a tiebreaker and continent wide political advisor. When the whole continent looks to a definite political leader, they look to Lythia.

Her counterpart is the Archangel Luminia, the religious leader. This is the only archangel in known history that remains freed of boundaries, and can reside in either realm for as long as she chooses. Unlike Lythia, who does not have any qualms on speaking her mind, Luminia has remained silent throughout most of her existence, and what little words she speaks are considered once-in-a-lifetime blessings to those who hear them. Lythia does not have a set place to stay, and her location is generally unknown, though the church affirms she can be reached through pure prayer, if one is worthy. True or not, most archbishops can call her out (most chose not to disturb the closest thing they have to a God, though,) but a good deal of souls are visited by lesser angels after prayer (referred to as Luminia’s Angels, or Listeners.) Lumina’s religion has an interesting twist to it: the truths must be sought by the followers. Luminia has never preached nor written a book of laws. Instead, she is approached with a book of a self-entitled prophet, which she then approves or denies. This means that the church of Luminia is interestingly devoid of Holy Books, and as such do not offer much in the way of morals. Instead, this church is seen as a means of holy protection from Nightmares, a place of study for holy magic and wards, and a sanctuary to maintain the boundaries between real and unreal steady.

It is said Luminia and Lythia are the reincarnations of an old King, the one who united Aria and spread cultural understanding throughout the land, making it not only one country, but one single “Nation” as well, other’s settle with calling them simple beings born from his influence.